Back In The Day
by Alysmiller
Summary: 18 year old Brendan is trying to control his feelings for 17 year old Steven, but as his emotions deepen, Ste gets critically ill. There's shocking revelations, family feuds and unexpected twists that are destined to rip them apart. Brendan is left with a choice. Steven? Or his father's respect and acceptance?
1. Chapter 1

It's 10pm on a Friday night and you've been working the bar since you got home from school. You've been serving the drinks, collecting glasses, clearing tables for 7 hours now and it's been 7 hours since your Da hit the whiskey with his feel his eyes on you constantly, assessing your every move, making sure you're not doing anything wrong or jeopardising his name or the business and you try to avoid eye contact with him, because you know the look he has on his face. Whenever he drinks, he's in_ the_ mood, but you're older now. 18 years old, doing your second year of A-levels and you told him to shove it over 4 years ago. That was the last time he was going to touch you like _that_. Of course it ended in a beating but you stood up for yourself and that in itself was something to be proud of. You're taller and bigger than your 8 year old self, although he can still pack a punch and you've been a victim of many of those since he stopped raping you.

'There's my wee girl!'

You hear him shout and you look across the room to see Cheryl sit next to him. Your precious baby sister. Whenever she is around him you always put up your guard and reserve some strength, in case he suddenly takes his frustration out on her. You'd take a million sessions of him raping you as long as it kept her safe.

'Heya daddy'

She says and she kisses him on the cheek and sits next to him, scrunching her face slightly at the smell of his cigarettes mixed with the stench of alcohol. She always saw the good in him, and it made you wonder... Why you? Why did he rape you? Why not her? Of course you wouldn't wish that on anyone but what did you do that was so wrong?

'Look. I bought Ste with me'

She says in her cheerful voice and your Da's face falls, as does yours.

'Steven'

He says crudely and he nods because it will get Cheryl's approval.

Fucking Steven. The boy who gets your juices flowing with one sassy look. You look at how his hair is messy yet stylish, how he always wears a tracksuit which makes him look like a council rag but you don't care. He looks... sexy. Rough. You don't want to be like... _this_. Attracted to men but you are, and since you were 16 you've gone out and had your wicked way with boys that are willing, just to satisfy your sexual frustration. You've tried your way with women, have gone out of town especially to sleep with them, a variety, thinking that you may be attracted to a certain type of woman. Although it made no difference.

You're not _gay_ though. Oh no.

'Alright Mr Brady'

Steven says. That fucking accent. _Mr Bradehhh._ It pisses you off so much, but you're annoyingly attracted to it at the same time because it sounds funny to you. You've never heard anything like it. It's sassy, elongated, incongruous to his surroundings so he stands out.

'Can I borrow a light?'

He asks and your dad looks at him in disgust. A boy of 17 smoking in front of his precious little girl. Disgraceful.

One of your Da's posy hands him some matches and your Da looks at him as if he is going to punch him in the face, couldn't possibly have anyone of a bad influence around his girl. He puts the fag in his mouth, lights it and inhales deeply, the smoke trickling out of his parted lips and floating above his head and it looks so fucking sexy.

'Brenda!'

Your Da calls and you're over there in a blink of an eye, can't ever leave him waiting because his temper would fly through the roof.

'Daddy. It's Brendan. Think you've had too much to drink'

Cheryl whispers, so naive and clueless. You only wish she knew, so you wouldn't have to live with this on your own, this secret. But you can't ruin her childhood too, couldn't possibly destroy this image she has created, beautiful and perfect. As far as she's concerned, the sun is shining out of your father's arse.

'Get Cheryl some water and young Steven... Can have what he wants'

His voice changes when he says Steven's name, but you shoot a look at the boy and he too is blissfully un-aware. Instead he is staring at you, fag still in his mouth yet he's grinning. You tilt your head and signal him to follow you and he does, trails hot on your feet as you make you way back around the bar.

'You alright Brendan?'

Brendan. Not _Brenduuunnn_. Twat.

'Yup. What do you want?'

You ask bluntly, want to get rid of him quickly because if your dad thinks that he is distracting you from working, then you'll get a face full of fist later on.

'Beer please'

He replies, takes another drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in your face. Normally you would shrink away from the disgusting smell but it all of a sudden smells nice, because _he_ has blown it at you. Not your Da. You can make out a hint of mint from where he had been chewing gum previously and you melt momentarily, gaze upon his pink lips and defined bone structure.

'You're 17. I ain't serving you a beer'

Steven sighs like he is queen bitch and you start to get impatient. Who does he think he is for fuck sake?

'That's a shame. Can't you sneak me one?'

He asks and he winks at you, fucking _winks_. It makes you hot under the collar, goose bumps prickle your skin and a shiver shoots down your spine, erupts your synapses like a volcano. You've had enough of him, enough of _this,_ how he's making you feel. You grab hold of a beer upon his request, pop off the cap and pour it into his lap with a demonic smile on your face, feel the need to treat him like shit because it'll keep him away. Steven jumps back in horror, the alcohol soaking him.

'What the hell?!'

He screams and your dad stands, looks over to you and all of the commotion.

'Brenda!'

Then he remembers that Cheryl is next to him and he repairs;

'Brendan! Cellar now!'

Your heart starts to thud in your ears because this is it. This is where you get a face full of fist, all because of this stupid boy and his cheek persona. You turn and slowly make your way to what fate intended.

'No Mr Brady! It's fine!'

You halt abruptly and turn back around to see Steven standing and wiping himself down with napkins. He gazing at you in fury underneath his long lashes.

'It's fine. I tried to be cheeky and nick a beer. Brendan tried to stop me and I poured it over myself'

You stare at the boy in surprise. You'd done nothing but be a bastard to him and now suddenly he is protecting you? You don't fucking need protecting though. Especially by him.

'Oh. Well clear the mess up! If I ever catch you trying to nick from my pub again, I'll break your legs boy'

Your Da says and you run around the bar to mop up the puddle on the floor, before he gets on your case.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

You hiss, nudging him out of the way to reach round the stool.

'Saving your arse'

He whispers. You don't need saving, are used to this sort of thing happening. You get _yourself_ into these situations most of the time, acting like the hard man, your own stupidity overriding your rational thought process. However, this boy makes you feel inferior and you hate that fact. He's Cheryl's best friend and can worm his way out of situations because of his status. Your dad would never say anything to him, would never tell him off, lay a hand on him, even if things were his fault.

'I didn't need you to interfere. I was fine-'

'Don't be so ungrateful. I know he beats you up. I saw remember?'

Yes. Steven heard the noises you made when your dad was beating you to a pulp in the back alley, heard your cries of mercy, whimpers of terror. He came around the corner to see you lying on the floor, blood dripping down your nose, while your dad stood over you, readying himself to beat you even more. You had looked at him through your black eyes, didn't need to shout for his help, thought the situation explained itself but he ran away from you. Let it to happen.

'I can look after myself'

Is all you say. You don't want to thank him for saving you this time. He doesn't deserve to be thanked after he left you and did nothing. It's ironic though. He thinks he knows you, thinks he knows the in's and out's of your life but in reality he has no clue. No clue on what you have to put up with. You go to sleep with the fear that your father will take advantage of you, you see his face when you shut your eyes and you feel like you are physically on fire when in his presence. You live every day in fear, scarred for what he put you through.

You've cleaned the floor and you walk back round the bar to serve the queue that has rapidly increased since your little incident and you're swept off of your feet. It's only you behind the bar tonight as all the other staff have either booked time off, or it isn't their day to work, yet Seamus, the man that he is, decided to work you like a dog.

It isn't till a little while later that realize you have a helping hand, Steven.

'What're you doing?'

You ask. This is _your_ job. You can do it by yourself.

'I'm helping. Seeing as I caused all this'

He says while he skilfully pours a pint, the froth nice and thick on the top and you are in awe of him. In all the years that you have worked here, you have never been able to do that, something your dad always likes to pick up on, mock you for.

'How...?'

You stutter over your words. Something so small seems to have such a big effect on you. Steven seems below average at everything and it annoys you that he can do something that you can't.

'How what?'

He asks as he pours two more pints that are the same as the first, handing them to two customers that sling a note in his hand and tell him to keep the change.

'How do you keep the froth on the top? I can never do that'

You say and it has more anger in it than is intended but this really pisses you off. This boy has 1 up on everything at the moment. Your father has more respect for him than you, he can pour pints better than you.

'Oh, it's all in the technique. Here. You do one.'

He grabs hold of a glass and throws it, expecting you to catch it, and you do, with quite a lot of pride as a matter of fact. He watches you as he takes money off of more customers, quickly shaking up cocktails and pouring shots.

'No No No. Do it again'

He says. The boy is pushing his luck, ordering you about, but you want to impress your father because he has always been on your case about this, has even made you pour pints again because apparently they weren't satisfactory.

'No. Like this'

He puts his hand on top of yours and tilts the angle in which you're holding the glass. You flick your gaze to his face, his touch like electricity to your skin, burning almost. He's more beautiful up close, skin flawless like silk, a nose that points, high cheekbones. The bubbles start fizzing in the bottom of the glass and the froth builds which initiates a smile from you. You're doing it.

'See? If you hold it the way you were, then it splashes at the bottom and it goes flat'

His hand is still on yours and you both watch as it slowly fills. Such a simple touch is sparking so many different emotions. Happiness, fright, confusion, you're scared and you're skeptical but you feel adventurous and you want to step into the unknown. But not here. Not now.

'Alright girls?'

You hear a gruff voice in front of you that interrupts your little fantasy and you jump at the familiarity. You quickly shake Steven's hand off of your own, subtle enough that you hope your dad doesn't see. He'll only patronize you further, interrogate you.

'Yeah Mr Brady. Was just showing Brendan how to pour a pint and keep the froth on top'

The boy wasn't boasting by any means, but you still feel like a complete fool, like an idiot. Your dad glares at you with what appears to be anger, is infuriated at the fact that this boy, this council rat is better at this job than his own son. You dip your head between your shoulders in shame, can't look at him, or Steven.

'You can pour a pint eh Steven? Show me'

He demands and Steven does as asked, pours a perfect pint and you watch on, embarrassed at how he does it with such ease and how easily it appeases your dad. He's about to take a sip when Steven halts him, snaps, almost gives yourself and Seamus a heart attack.

'Wait!'

He turns and grabs a lime out of one of the fridges, takes a knife and quickly chops it in half, then squeezes some of the juice into the drink.

'Makes it less bitter'

Steven justifies and your Da simply gawps at him for a second, is taken aback by this technique. He takes takes a sip and pulls away with the froth layered across his top lip. You're writhing in jealousy because all of the pints he's had, that have been poured by you, that has never happened. It may sound idiotic but this is only making you hate him more. You're searching for petty things, idiotic things as a con, to put you off him and divert your thoughts away from his attractions.

'Wow. Good pint son'

Oh for fuck sake.

Again, this rat of a boy gets more respect from your father than you do, more praise despite the fact that it's you who have been working here for four years, have kept the custom, have kept everything running. You get this strange urge to punch Steven in the face, purely to make yourself feel better.

'Thanks'

He says smugly, shoving his hands into his pockets, seemingly taken aback at the unexpected compliment.

'Congratulations. You now work here'

WHAT?!


	2. Chapter 2

'What? No Mr Brady... I wasn't asking for a job'

He says and you stare him down like a piece of meat. He can pour a fucking pint and now he has a job?! You had to work your arse off to get a job here, the stages you went through were torturous and suddenly your Da is just throwing jobs about.

'Da, We already have enough staff. They'll have to do less hours then, lose out on wages'

You intervene, try and save Steven from getting into something that he might regret later on. Being under the management of Seamus Brady is something you wouldn't wish on anyone. He's already attacked two young staff members and you'd hate for that to happen to him, couldn't forgive yourself if it did.

'You feeling threatened Brenda?'

Seamus says and he bores into you, stares at you with those eyes that remind you of black holes, deep, concaved, don't show a spark of emotion only darkness and destruction, a whole lot of emptiness. He glares, crushes you into the floor like a bug, reduces you into nothing.

'No Da. Was just thinking of the others'

You say, but your voice is squeaky, said without conviction and you are so inferior, every bit of power that you've ever had has been sucked into that vortex, along with your innocence, dignity, self respect.

'This is my pub and I'll do what I like. Steven, you want the job or not? I hear your Ma is in a bit of financial trouble'

He says and when he looks away you feel tall again. He has this hold over you and you don't know how you'll ever escape, but when he takes his eyes away, you feel free, able to spread your wings to a certain extent.

'I don't live with my mum anymore. Moved out a while ago and live with some mates but I guess a job would be good. Tah'

Fuck sake. He really has walked into it now. Stupid boy.

'Good. You can start Monday'

With that, your Da walks away, Steven's Guinness still in hand and neither of you know what to say to each other. He looks at you. You look at him. There's tension in the air, one that you're not willing break because you fear that you'll scream at him, curse at his arrogance.

'I'm gunna... go home, tell my mates the good news'

He doesn't move when he tells you that, he just stands there with the same fucking gormless look on his face and you want to slap him to rid of the expression.

'This is anything but good news'

You say, bitter and venomous. You want to scare him away, want to put the fear of hell into him because if he messes with you, there will be some serious consequences. You feel like enough of an imbecile in front of your father because you've never lived up to his expectation, and now this boy is higher up in the ranks than you are. He walks out from behind the bar without saying a word, is obviously hurt by your ice cold attitude and you hope you've hurt his feelings, made him feel unwelcome.

'I'll see you later Cheryl yeah?'

He says to your sister and he gives her a small kiss on the cheek signalling his departure.

'Bye babe. Meet me outside on Monday yeah? We can walk in together'

You subtly sigh, are irritated because every week day you have to hear those two gossiping about phatic little things, pointless things that get on your nerves.

'Bye Brendan'

You snap out of your frustrated trance and see Steven walking past you, a small departing smile on his face. It's an awkward smile and he obviously thinks there's bad blood between you, and indeed there is. You've never forgiven him for leaving you in the alley to get beaten. Although, you never liked him before hand either because you thought he was stealing Cheryl away from you. It's also an opinion that you've adapted from your dad, thinking that if you had something in common with him then you'd be getting somewhere in your relationship.

'See you later'

You mumble in reply, only loud enough for him to hear you because if your dad hears then he'll start jumping to conclusions. That's what he does. He'll mock you, ask if Steven is your boyfriend, gay lover, faggot friend. One of the three.

'I'm gunna go to bed daddy okay?'

Cheryl announces to your father, giving him a hug and kiss goodnight before heading over to you to do the same.

'Hopping off now Bren. See you in the morning.'

You just smile and before you know it she is out of sight. Then you hear your dad speculating about Steven. You can't help but listen in because his opinion of the boy fascinates you. You want to see whether he has him figured out, find out why he's so cold towards him.

'That Steven... funny thing ain't he boys?'

He asks his little gang whilst taking a sip of his beverage, flicking his eyes towards the door in which Steven exited only moments ago.

'Scrawny little lad. Seems a bit bent to me'

One of the group says and your dad's jaw tightens, his fists close and lock around his pint glass. You already know his opinion of gay people, what light he sees them in and that's why you're always on guard, get angry when he accuses you of being the same because you're not.

'I doubt it lads. My Cheryl would never make friends with a bender'

He says, but you know otherwise. Steven is... like _that_ and that is another reason you are trying to convince yourself that you don't like him. Your Da's opinions have a tendency to rub off on you and you _want_ to inherit them because you think if you had the same thoughts, then you'd impress him, you'd be the son that he wants. Steven's had suspicions of you before, has seen you look at a lad longer than necessary, your sexual needs taking over and he's accused you of being like him. You'd lost your temper, felt trapped because that is what you get at home constantly, are always referred to as being a soft girl, a poof, queer.

'_Just coz you're bent, doesn't mean everyone else is. You're sick'_

That was something along the lines of what you said to him, but the look on his face afterwards. It was knowing, he knew that something inside of you was burning, desperate to break free.

* * *

Before you know it, the weekend is over and it's Monday morning. You meet Cheryl outside and there he is. Steven, looking scruffy as usual in his school uniform but you can't help but feel attracted to him while he looks like that. He looks like a wreck but it's rough and ready and it's gorgeous. His tie isn't done up properly, the sleeves of his blazer are rolled half way up his arms, his collar is sticking up, his trousers are low around his hips and you can see the rim of his boxers. The sight highly arouses you and you have to take a deep breath to stay in control. When he turns though, when he turns and looks at you with those enticing blue eyes that you so desperately want to drown in, you can't help but smile and he smiles back.

What the fuck are you doing?!

You immediately stop, shake your head slightly and you barge past him and Cheryl, nudge him with your shoulder as you go.

'Bren! Hey!'

Your sister shouts you but you carry on walking, not quickly but you can't be around him, your emotions are spiralling out of control as it is and you can't let them take over you.

'Brendan!'

He too starts to shout after you and you can hear his footsteps catching up. What does he think he's doing? He gets a job at the pub and now he thinks you're best mates or something? He's getting too close, trying to dig his way deeper into your life and you need to think of how to push him away.

'What do you want?'

You ask gruffly as you come to a halt. Being a dick to him is one way to get him to keep his distance. A plan is what you need though... Something that'll keep him away from you for good.

'Why you walking away from Cheryl when she's calling you?'

'Because I don't wanna have to listen to the crap that you two talk about'

The look on his face is an expression of hurt and you feel guilty as fuck but you have your morals and he deserves this; after everything he's done to you, after he left you, made you feel like an idiot in front of your dad. You're doing everything in your power to bury these feelings under the hatchet so your left with nothing but poison and hatred but even you know that you can never deny you're feelings. You'll die trying.

'Why you being like this?'

He asks, vulnerable, his eyes wide like an innocent 6 year old and his bottom lips juts out into that pout. You want to take it between your teeth, chew on it until it hurts.

'Being like what Steven?'

You want to hear him say it, your interrogatives are trying to force the answer out of him but you know he's too nice to say it, he knows what you're capable of. He saw what you did to that other lad, the one who mocked you for staring at a boy longer than necessary. You've built up quite a reputation within the school, intentional of course. You have everyone on a string, are able to manipulate their thoughts with a single move.

But Steven isn't stupid.

For a moment you get scared, and you think he might actually know you more than you know yourself. He has this presence, this way about him and it's like he can look into your eyes and see your soul and every time he comes over to you, talks to you, you want to spill everything, spill every single emotion onto the floor and drown in your ocean of feelings.

'Doesn't matter'

He's angry now, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. The sassy fucker that he is pivots on one foot and walks away like queen bitch. That sway of his arse in those trousers, the pert, round shape. In your head you reach your hand out and give it a hard slap, listen to the crack of skin against material.

In reality though, you're still standing on the spot, watching as he makes his way back to Cheryl.

* * *

When it's lunch time, you head over to the normal table you sit at with your best friend Paddy. You call him your best friend but really, you don't have any friends. Friends are people you can share your secrets with, go and play football with, bare your soul too] if needs be but Paddy knows nothing about you. Well, he knows your dad owns a pub, he left your Ma for Cheryl's Ma but that's it. He knows nothing of the beatings, your feelings, the... rapes.

'You up for the game tonight Bren?'

He asks as he stuffs half a sandwich into his mouth.

You two are quite similar. You both have an appetite that's for sure, both of your parents have split up and found someone else, you know that he thinks his younger sibling the favourite; so you have quite a lot of common ground with him. But you're Irish. You don't talk about emotions and feelings. You drown them in a pint of Guinness and you've done that on many occasions with him.

'Um. Can't. Got a shift at the pub and a new kid is starting tonight. Steven Hay, Cheryl's mate. Remember him?'

He flicks his eyes towards the ceiling, see him racking through his brain to match a name to a face.

'The bent one with the nice hair?'

It's no secret that Steven is gay, even though he hasn't actually announced it but he doesn't hide his articulate, extravagant behaviour. He goes around being all flamboyant, he's loud, laughs like a fucking donkey and always attracts attention.

'You think he has nice hair?'

You ask. That's an odd thing for him to say. _Extremely_ odd. He's like you when it comes to opinions of gay guys. He just insults them, intimidates.

'Oh... Well... You know what I mean... Kinda wish I had hair like that...'

He stutters, trips over his words as if to justify himself but he's well and truly dug himself a hole, shot himself in the foot.

'Okay... Anyway yeah. He's working at the pub now. Da gave him a job on Friday. Fuckin bastard'

'Bren. Come on. He isn't that bad'

You may not know a lot about each other, but you know for certain that he'd never defend Steven, not if his life depended on it.

'Since when did you talk to him?'

You need to know. Something is going on that he isn't telling you. Is he stealing Paddy away from you as well as Cheryl? As well as your dads respect? Soon enough you're going to be left with nothing. You see him freeze, the cogs in his head overloading and you practically see smoke coming out of his ears from too much processing, from over thinking.

'I've talked to him... a couple of times. Your Cheryl is mates with my Danielle isn't she, and Steven is always around her so...'

You can see he is lying. He practically has it stamped on his forehead but you're not going to pry. Steven is quite a popular guy in all fairness. Maybe not for the right reasons, but many people have taken to him. You suddenly hear that stupid donkey laugh of his down the corridor and you glance up, see him walking backwards as he talks to Cheryl and that arse... that beautiful arse is staring at you again and you can't peel your eyes away. You want to bite it, lick it, slap it. Do anything and everything to it. Filthy thoughts enter your mind and you're lost for a second, daydreaming of sexual fantasies.

You imagine his body being skinny but toned, his skin golden like honey, smooth and soft to touch, probably little chest hair which contrasts to you. You see him on your bed, shirtless, his lips parted, eyes dark, full of lust and passion and you so desperately want to reach out and touch him, caress every inch of skin that's on show.

You are interrupted.

'Bren!'

Cheryl barks, kicks you underneath the table and you practically shit yourself. You jump in your seat, smack your knee against the table and knock a drink into Steven's lap.

'Oh for fuck sake!'

He curses, standing and trying to wipe himself down with the cuff of his blazer. You can see his face flushing red with anger and he's ready to explode, ready to scream in yours or someone else's face.

'I'm sorry... Steven I'm sorry'

You quickly stand up, take off your jacket it and pass it to him so he can use it to dry himself but he refuses, bats your hand away furiously.

You suddenly realise what you've just done. You apologised to someone and that is something that you promised you'd never do. You've been hurt all your life, thrown away like piece of rubbish and people have walked all over you. Every bit of damage you do now, is seen as revenge.

'Fuck sake'

He repeats and straightens up, glares at you with such intensity that you actually feel uncomfortable, causing you to shuffle on your feet, sink your head between your shoulders in surrender.

'I'm gunna have a fag!'

With that, he storms off, leaving you standing there like a twat, half the school staring at you, Cheryl and Paddy included. The little shit. Bringing attention to a stupid, petty incident, making you look like an idiot.

'Don't just stand there Bren go after him and tell him you're sorry!'

Cheryl hisses and you attempt a glare that suggests it's ludicrous although her small and innocent face makes you melt because she is only trying to do right by everyone and you envy her for that, thinking of everyone else rather than yourself. You want to be her, be the favoured child, be the one who has all of the friends, the respect.

'I already did'

You mumble and she touches the small of your back and pushes you slightly in the direction Steven went.

'Go and apologise properly'

You're so weak when it comes to her, when she tells you to do something it's that hardest thing in the world to reject. You jog out of the canteen, see Steven force open a fire exit at the end of the hall, practically taking the door off of its hinges.

'Wait. Steven wait.'

He doesn't stop, simply pulls out a cigarette, quickly lights it and inhales, blows the smoke out slowly and you run straight into it but it doesn't faze you. It makes you feel the same way as when he blew it in your face in the pub. There's the same faint smell of mint and you breathe it in, let the toxic smoke fill your lungs and it smells so fucking good.

When you catch up to him, you grab his arm and whirl him around so he's facing you but he shrugs out of your grip and takes another drag of his cigarette.

'Get off. That's twice now! What the fuck is your problem with me?!'

He screams in your face and you didn't expect it. It catches you off guard because you have never seen him like this, so manic and psychotic, a red tinge to his eye.

'I... I don't-'

'Don't say you don't have issues with me coz you do. You talk to me like I'm shit on your shoe! So come on... Now's your chance to tell me!'

You can't.

No.

If you tell him what your problem is, then that means you're talking about your feelings. To be honest, you don't have problems with _him_, you just hate the way you feel about him, what he's turning you into.

'Come on!'

He shoves you, nearly makes you fall to the floor. He's a lot stronger than he looks but he can't push you, can't drive you to that cliff edge because you'll go to extremes to prevent yourself from falling.

'Steven, don't'

You warn him, look at him with heavy, hooded eyes to try and reinforce that you're being serious, make it imperative.

'Don't fucking tell me what to do! Who do you think you are? Going around, treating people like dirt. I tell you what, you're the one who's lonely, you have absolutely nothing and you feel the need to hurt other people as a way of punishing yourself!'

You feel something inside of you snap, like a rope that's under too much pressure and your whole body jerks quickly and it isn't until you see him lying on the floor that you realise you've punched him in the face. Adrenalin dominates your veins, your blood runs thick and fast and you're sweating, your breath is heavy and erratic but no matter how much Oxygen you intake, you still feel faint.

'Shit'

Is all you can say.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ste's P.O.V**

You lie on the floor, cling to your nose which is pouring with blood and Brendan stays at your feet, towers over you with his fists clenched, in a rigid stance. You don't scramble away because that'll make you look scared, but that seems to be the best scenario at the moment.

You're scared as hell.

You clutch your nose and clamber to your feet. You feel tears prickling in your eyes because you thought that Brendan was different. Sure, his dad is crazy and he beat the hell out of him but you expected victims of violence to be different, to not inflict that pain onto other people.

You tighten your grip as you feel blood trickling down your arm and he just stands there, looking on as you try and stop the bleeding, try and stop yourself from crying.

His expression is unreadable. He doesn't look like he took any satisfaction out of hitting you, but then he doesn't look as if he regretted it either and you want to hit him back, you want to hit him so hard that he falls to the floor and doesn't get back up, but you have suffered enough at the hands of Terry, your step father, and you have moved on from that.

'I'm sorry'

He says out of the blue, but there is no sorrow or truth behind it.

'Sorry? You're sorry?! I think you've broken my nose you arsehole!'

You scream at the top of your lungs, push him as hard as you can with your free hand and you smear a bloody handprint onto his shirt in the process.

'Oi! Brady! My office now!'

You freeze at the familiar voice of your principal; Mr Price. He's the big bad wolf, the one you DO NOT get on the wrong side of because he will rip you to fucking shreds. You remember the first day at 6th form, you saw him screaming at one of the bullies and he had him in tears within a few seconds.

You see all of the colour drain from Brendan's face and you feel sorry for him.

Why do you feel sorry for him?!

'Ste, go to the nurse. She'll patch you up. Did you not here me Brady?!'

You are surprised at how calm Mr Price is being. You've noticed how he hates having to deal with pathetic bravado and scraps between students and under his influence, you wonder why people get into fights in the first place.

Mr Price is a big fellow, roughly 6ft 4, short brown messy hair, hands like a gorilla and a physique that had the potential to scare a professional boxer. He isn't a bad looking bloke in all honesty. Very upper class and wealthy as you can tell by his Doctor Martens leather shoes and Armani suits.

You always wonder how he managed to become a principal when it appeared that he hated children and teenagers, but there is no denying that he keeps this school in order.

'I don't want to have to repeat myself for a third time Brady'

_Brady._

He always did that, called people by their surnames but not with you. He never has. Of course there have been very few times in which you have communicated but the times you have, he has always addressed you as Ste. More so, is the fact that you have never had to correct him. Ever since you started he has called you Ste; never Steven.

Brendan turns slowly and you watch him walk towards his doom. Mr Price's jaw is locked, tense. You can tell he is pissed off having to deal with such a pathetic tale, but Brendan deserves this. You have defended him on many occasions but now he is going to get his comeuppance.

You head in the opposite direction towards first aid, keeping your head down because you don't want to attract unwanted attention.

'What've you done now Mr Hay?'

Jill. The school nurse. Probably the nicest woman you have ever met and the clumsy ass boy that you are, you've been here many times.

'Got punched in the face'

You say and she runs over to you, her natural motherly instinct kicking in and she tips your head back, quickly examines then wipes away all of the blood, gently squeezing down the bridge of your nose.

'It's not broken. Just bruised. The swelling is likely to spread, so you may have a black eye.'

Great.

Fucking. Great.

'Who's been hurting my little cherub eh?'

She asks as she straps your nose and applies an ice pack.

'Brendan Br-'

'Eurgh. That thug. Just like his father'

She curses, before you get to finish your sentence and in a weird way, you want to get up in Jill's face and defend him. She knows nothing of what he has to deal with. _You_ know nothing in all fairness, not _really_ but you know a damn sight more than everyone else.

'A troubled boy that one. Good lad underneath I would think. Shame'

It's more like she is muttering to herself rather than having a conversation with you, but you can see the remorse and the pity in her eyes as she patches you up. She's a good lady and she wants nothing more than to be able to help people. The amount of things she has helped you with, it's something you can't thank her enough for.

'There you go son. All done.'

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You follow Mr Price down the corridor, slump your head between your shoulders as you get piercing looks off of fellow students who witnessed the _incident_ between you and Steven. You're ashamed of yourself, and so you should be because that was the shadow of your father shining through. You don't want to be like this, have him constantly inside your head, chipping away at your thoughts, becoming the devil on your shoulder, controlling your every move.

You know exactly what's going to happen in that office. It's happened on numerous occasions.

'Bren? Brendan?'

You hear Cheryl's voice from behind you, calling you down the hall and you can't bring yourself to turn around.

'What've you done?'

She shouts at you, tries to grab your attention but you ignore her. She'll hate you no matter how she finds out and to be honest, you don't want to be the one to tell her. You haven't got the balls. You feel instantaneously trapped when you enter Mr Price's office, like the walls are caving in and squashing you, suffocating, drowning.

'Sit'

He says gruffly and you obey, occupy a seat opposite him and you fold your hands, place them between your legs and await your fate.

'What do you think you're playing at Brady?'

He enquires, but you can't say anything in your defence because there is no case here. You're guilty as charged and you see no point in trying to defend yourself. Instead you shrug, keep your eyes pointing at the floor, but his gaze is heavily focused on you, like knives stabbing into your back, cutting and ripping you to pieces.

'Ste has had enough trouble as it is! Do you have any idea of what he has gone through?!'

Mr Price blasts, makes you shit yourself. That voice, the power and the amplitude shoots straight through you, almost like it has the power to throw you against the wall. You have no idea what Steven has been through. You know nothing about him really. He moved out from his house and lives with friends, that's practically it and to be honest, you don't want to go deep into his personal life, because knowing things about him creates a stronger bond between you and you're struggling with your emotions as it is.

'No Sir'

You say, your voice, so minute against his.

'Who do you think you are? Do you think you have a license to hit anyone and everyone?!'

You feel so humiliated. You could just imagine a load of students outside of the door, ears pressed against it, listening in on this conversation, laughing at you.

'No Sir'

You hear him sigh and thump one of his fists against the table in frustration. This is quite a light lecture in comparison to the others that you've had off of him. Usually he'd be pacing the room, shouting at you so loudly that cracks would start to form in the walls.

'I'm going to call your father and send a course for concern to your tutor. If anything like this happens again then you'll be excluded.'

Oh shit.

That was the part you feared most about this meeting, despite the fact that you knew it was coming. You can predict the night ahead. You'll get home, your da will throw all of these interrogatives in your direction, compare you to your _saint of a sister_ and then he'll beat you up, punch you until you're begging him to stop.

'Yes sir'

You can't change anything. You can't get on your knees and beg him not to ring your dad because he'll find out one way or another. If Mr Price didn't tell him, then Cheryl would. Or worse; Steven himself.

'Go. Consider yourself lucky. Be thankful that I'm a relatively good mood today'

He's in a sparkling good mood. This punishment is light considering the circumstances but the punishment you'll receive later is one of the worst. You shake your head and practically run out of his office, where you're immediately greeted by Cheryl and standing behind her is Steven, his nose strapped and swollen.

'What the hell is wrong with you?!'

She screams and slaps you repeatedly on the arms and chest, her blond hair flipping in front of her face. You stare behind her, directly into Steven's eyes but you see nothing. No pity, no questioning but no anger or fury. He just looks beaten and broken and that's what you've done. You caused that and it's killing you.

* * *

When you get home, your predictions start to come true. You are greeted by your drunk of a father and he has his head on the kitchen table, fingers raked through his hair.

'I got a phone call today. Very interesting'

He mumbles and you stand in the corner of the room, as far away from him as possible so you have a small amount of time to prepare if he lashes out.

'Says you hit young Steven'

You don't reply. He knows all, and it's the same with Mr Price. You see no point in trying to defend yourself.

'What got into you boy?'

He asks and he shoots out of his seat, causing you to jump back, bend at the knees and bring your arms up to your face, but nothing happens. You're waiting for it, waiting for the punch or the kick. You take a peek through the gap between your arms and you see he's just standing in front of you like a statue, rigid and stiff.

'Hit me like you hit him'

He says gruffly, challenging you to see if you have the bollocks to do it but you don't. As much as you hate this man, despise him, you can't hit him. You physically can't raise your fist and punch him, your body won't allow it.

'What Da?'

You enquire, just to try and make sure you heard him correctly because sometimes you have desperately wanted him to say things and you think you've heard him say it. Like, him telling you that he loves you, that you've done him proud and that you're the best son anyone could have.

'Hit me like you hit him. I wanna see if you still punch like a girl'

He growls and now you feel angry, you feel the heat building inside of you, like a thermometer that's about to burst and you feel sweat pricking your skin. You clench your fists, ready yourself slightly and you're about to do it, you're about to take the power back but you don't, because you can't and he just sniggers, happy, satisfied.

'Still that same wee girl aren't you Brenda?'

He closes in, stalks you like his pray, gets so close that your back hits the wall and he breathes all over you. The stench of alcohol is strong on his breath and your stomach wretches, churns as you make out the smell of his cigarettes.

'I'm... I'm not a...'

'Sorry what?'

In a blink of an eye, his fist is in your ribs and you're winded. You fall to your knees, try to suck in some air to stop you from passing out but it feels like your lungs are no longer in your body. He grabs a clump of your hair, forces you to look up at him and that same, sick, sadistic smile is still on his face and he giggles.

Fucking giggles.

You're about to plea, about to beg him not to hit you again but then he raises a fist and punches you in the face, completely merciless, no remorse or regret, and you can actually hear the brutal contact of fist against cheek. The impact has split your lip and you can taste the blood in your mouth, you have no choice to spit it out and it dribbles down your chin.

You hadn't realised that you were crying until you felt a tear drop off your chin and mix with the blood on the floor.

'Crying like a baby. No change there. Clean this mess up and get downstairs to the bar. Steven will be here soon'


	4. Chapter 4

**Ste's P.O.V**

You're dreading the night ahead. Working with Brendan after he hit you only hours ago will not only be awkward. It'll be tense, silent, questions with lurk in the air but you're too afraid to ask them, you're afraid of what he'll ask you.

You're scared in all honesty because you don't know what to expect. You don't know whether he'll actually be there, or whether he'll stare you down all night and make your shift hell, whether he'll criticize your every move.

Maybe you should just go in there and tell Mr Brady that this job isn't necessary. You feel dangerous stepping into Brendan's territory and you know you're unwanted because of your sexual orientation.

Yes. You're gay, and you may be a little... extravagant and extrovert, but that doesn't mean you are trying to flaunt your sexuality in everyone's face. You haven't even done anything with any guys. Well...you've snogged a couple of lads and given out a few hand jobs but that's it.

You don't count those as real sexual encounters.

You take a deep breath, shake the nerves out of your system and waltz in there like you own the fucking place. You can't show you're scared. Not now because people like Brendan will take advantage of your fear and vulnerability, you've been there before and you don't plan on going back.

'Ah. Steven! How are you lad?'

Seamus is ready and waiting. He's leaning against the bar, shot of whisky in hand and he spots you before you spot him. As soon as you set your sight on him, you shuffle over and join him and he stares at your nose in horror, a rehearsed look in your opinion.

'I heard about what my son did. I can only apologise on his behalf'

He furrows his brow, gives you a look of pity but it doesn't fool you. You know what this piece of scum is like, you've seen it with your own eyes.

He pats you on the shoulder and smiles, his way of checking that the apology is accepted, which it isn't because you don't want an apology off of him. You want one off Brendan.

'It's fine. Had worse. Where is he?'

You ask, trying to divert the conversation onto something other than your injury. You're getting enough funny looks as it is.

'He's... clearing something up upstairs. Silly boy walked into the cupboard door and hurt his lip, blood everywhere'

He chuckles.

Bull shit.

You can see straight through this son of a bitch.

He doesn't know that you saw him beating Brendan to a pulp in that alley, completely clueless and so naive, thinking his little secret is safe.

At that moment, you see Brendan trudging towards the bar, an arm wrapped around his torso, his eyes blood shot from where he had evidently been crying, his lip, swollen and bloody and there was new bruising forming around his eye socket.

He is in a right state, and when his eyes meet yours, you can see it; the weakness, the cry for help. He is hurt. So hurt, not just physically but mentally and he's emotionally exhausted.

You want to pull him into your arms, sit on the floor and rock him back and forth, allow him to cry if he wanted, run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything is going to be fine.

There _is_ good in him, you can see it, but this sick asshole of a man that is sat next to you, has his claws in Brendan so deep, you can practically see the puncture wounds.

'You alright?'

You ask but Brendan just nods, avoids eye contact with the both of you and he heads down to what you presume is the cellar.

'Go with him son.'

Seamus says and you don't hesitate. You immediately run around the bar, barge through the door and take the steps two at a time until you reach the bottom.

Down here it's cold, and dark, there's a wet moisture to the air and you can smell whiskey, which must have been from the times in which the bottles had been dropped and the contents leaked onto the floor.

You see Brendan in the corner, filling a crate with beers and you slowly walk over to him, stop about half way because you don't want to get too close. You know he's angry, because that's what you used to feel like after a beating and every time one of your friends urged you to talk, you'd just flip your lid.

The last you thing you want to do was make him feel uncomfortable.

'Brendan?'

You say slowly and that's when you see his shoulders shake and his head slump between them.

Is he...

Crying?

You hear him sniff and let out a deep, laboured breath. Then he turns, looks at you directly in the eyes and you see a tear fall down his cheek.

'Come here'

You say, and you extend your arms, walk towards him but he steps back, moves away and shakes his head.

'Did... Did he do that?'

You enquire. You don't want to get too personal, but something you've found is that talking about it makes everything seem so much better.

_A problem shared is a problem halved_

'What's it to you?'

He asks, his voice trying to stay strong but it quivers and shakes, wet with emotion.

'This is all my fault'

It is. If you hadn't pushed him, hadn't got lost in your own fury then none of this would have happened. You're a sassy fucker and you know that, you don't deal with shit from anyone because you've put up with it for far too long.

'No! Don't you do that'

He says, shakes his head vigorously as he blinks his tears away and you take another step forward, slowly try to enter his personal space without making him feel pressured or uncomfortable.

'But...'

'No Steven. I never should have hit you and I'm... I'm... S-Sorry'

Those are words that you have been dying to hear but you never got your hopes up because you didn't think you'd _ever_ hear them. Not from someone like Brendan Brady.

You're stumped, all words are stuck and you don't know what to say.

_It's okay?_

No. Because it isn't okay. He nearly broke your nose for no reason. That is anything but okay.

'_Don't worry about it?'_

Your emotions are so conflicted. One minute, you find him attractive and you want to snog his face off, kiss him hard and rough, raw and passionate. The next, he is a wanker and you want to punch him in the face.

You're looking at him now though, analysing everything and he's weak, broken, worn down to absolutely nothing and you know that feeling, know what it's like, thinking you have nothing and no one and you swore, the day you left that god forsaken house, that if you saw something like this, like Brendan, then you'd do anything to help.

You hold out a hand and he stares at it, like it's something abnormal, like he's never shaken hands with someone before.

'You're supposed to shake it'

You say, but not in a demeaning tone, not at all.

'Why are you being so nice to me? I don't deserve it'

He says and he wipes his nose with the cuff of his bloody jumper, leans back against the crates and barrels of alcohol into a more comfortable position.

'Maybe you could try being nice to me sometime? I'm not all bad.'

You see the edge of his lip curl into a smile and Jesus Christ.

It's beautiful.

His perfect row of straight, white, gleaming teeth, surrounded by pink, kissable lips. It's a sight that has completely caught you off guard, a sight to behold. Your breath hitches slightly, gets stuck in your windpipe and you try to swallow it down, try to mask the fact that you are practically choking on your own Oxygen.

'Maybe... we could start again yeah? We do have to work together now and... your Cheryl would be a bit happier if she sees that we're at least _trying_ to get along'

Your voice changes at the 'trying' part. You know Brendan doesn't really like you and you don't really like him. His ways irritate you, how he thinks he is the big bad wolf, how he gets up in your face and defensive about anything and everything.

You want to make peace.

You keep your arm extended a little longer, then he suddenly steps forward, lifts his hand about half way then hesitates and you wonder... Is he? Isn't he?

Then he does.

He presses your palms together, closes his fingers around your hand, his grip; relatively gentle yet firm and he doesn't take his eyes away from yours as he shakes.

Your breath hitches again, your heart hammers in your ears at the sudden contact. The warmth of his hand, vibrates through your entire body, like electricity pulsing through a telephone wire, and sweat prickles your skin. You're hot and heavy underneath the collar and you wonder if he is feeling what you're feeling. You take note of how his body straightens slightly, how it turns rigid and tense.

You've never felt like this before, never thought you had the ability to feel things as strong as this.

Your eyes slip from his gaze and travel down to his bruised lips.

Lips that you want to bruise even more with yours. You want to lick the cut better, kiss every inch of his face, his black eye, his swollen nose, his ribs which are evidently hurting as that arm is still wrapped around his midriff.

He pulls away when he realises that things are getting too tense, blinks a couple of times to try and get his head around what just happened; if anything happened at all.

You realize that you can breathe again, and the sudden chill of the cellar breezes against your hot, sweaty skin, the sudden loss of physical contact, turning your blood cold.

'Start again'

He croaks, attempts to clear his throat and he hooks a finger into his collar and pulls slightly, he becomes awkward and introverted.

'Yeah'

You agree and then clap your hands together, rock slightly on your heels and look about, trying to find something to do, but your lack of experience falters you here, because you have no idea what to do.

'So... Where do you want me?'

You ask and you see his fists clench, hear them crack, watch as his knuckles turn white.

'Oh... Not like that. I just mean... What do you want me to do coz... I dunno what I'm doing do I?'

You talk quickly, throw out any excuse you can, and you suddenly panic, see a darkness in his eyes. You've accused him once before of being gay and he nearly broke your face then. You've just made peace and you don't want it to go tits up already.

He doesn't respond for about 30 seconds and it causes you to gulp loudly, hold a breath until he speaks.

'Just... Come help me fill this crate'

He says, then he turns back round and starts filling it with beer.

You walk over to him slowly, watch what he is doing for a second then replicate his actions until the crate is full.

'Now what?'

You ask, tapping your fingers against the plastic and he smirks at you, shoots an intimidating grin.

'What?!'

You demand, dropping your hands beside your waist as he giggles, shakes his head from side to side. You debate on nudging him, but think twice because he is hurt, and you're still too scared to touch him if it isn't on demand.

'You know how to pour a pint, but you don't know what to do when a crate is full?'

He asks, humour still tangled in his tone and you smile with him because this is a rare moment. You and Brendan Brady laughing together, and in all honesty, you could get used to this.

'Never worked in a pub before. Not really!'

You blast defensively and you seem to crack him up even more.

'What's so funny?'

You enquire, a grin still on your face. Seeing him smile has a strange effect on you. It makes your insides feel all mushy and your knees buckle.

'Nothing. You're just a funny little thing.'

He says and you hide your face in embarrassment, you feel a blush in your cheeks, your temperature flying through the roof.

'Anyway, we carry these up to the bar, and re-stock.'

You go to lift up the crate, yet you find it's really_ really _heavy, drop it back down and the crash of the glass against plastic rocks your eardrums

'Jesus. How am I meant to lift that?!'

You ask, and you punch the plastic in irritation. You almost think that the crate is being deliberately heavy to make an idiot out of you.

'My god boy. I'll carry them. You just load them up okay? You need to work on those little chicken arms of yours'

He mutters crudely, then he squeezes your arm with his large hand, the heat of his palm radiating through your jumper and there it is again. The lump in your throat, the rush of blood and adrenalin.

'Oi! Shut up!'

You say and you nudge him with your hip, a little harder than intended but he barely falters, barely stumbles with the force. He's as solid as a rock and you can't help but feel a little turned by that.

Without another word he lifts the crate with ease, such ease that you really do feel like a twink, highly embarrassed in fact. He takes it away and walks up the stairs and you can't help but follow him with your eyes.

You'd never realized what a nice bum he had.

'Stop it! If he catches you staring then you're dead.'

You mutter under your breath and start filling the crates 6 bottles at a time, 3 in each hand. This job is relatively easy and it kills the time quite quickly. You start singing a little tune to yourself, shake your leg in a rhythmic style because you've always loved music, always made up stupid little tunes in your head, despite the fact that you're tone deaf.

'Jesus boy. You fill crates fast!'

Brendan's voice startles you, makes you jump on the spot and slap a hand against your chest to try and stop your heart from bursting out.

You look behind you and analyse your work. 4 crates filled.

'Do I?'

You ask modestly. You thought it was slow in all fairness, you weren't putting in a lot of effort.

'Yeah. Bloody hell.'

He bends down and picks up three crates that are stacked up on top of each other and you watch in awe. He's as strong as a bloody bulldozer!

You note that he has taken his jumper off and you see the sleeves of his t-shirt ride up over his muscles and you practically salivate, dribble dripping out onto your lip but you wipe it away with the back of your hand before he notices.

'Come on. This should be enough'

He says and you just nod. If you physically say something, you fear that there might be a puddle of drool on the floor. As you follow him up the stairs, your eyes are instantly on his arse and god is it even more gorgeous up close, accentuated by the tightness of his jeans. You have to use all of your self control not to reach out and slap it.

* * *

Your 6 hour shift is over in a blink of an eye, probably because you were swept off your feet, pouring pints at light speed, collecting glasses, re-stocking fridges, leaving the crates to Brendan because he could carry the most at any given time.

Now you're just wiping down the tables and sweeping underneath at closing time, still under the watchful eye of Seamus, but Brendan seems to be more at scrutiny. You and him worked pretty well together, having a laugh when you could, but he still seemed shifty towards you, slightly uncomfortable.

It seemed that he had never really had a friend before.

Is that what you are now?

Friends?

Or work colleagues?

Yeah. That's what you'll stick to at the moment.

When you've wiped the last table down, you head back behind the bar, put away the cleaning utensils and empty the dustpan, rid of all the cigarette remains.

That's one thing you like about working here.

Instead of asking for a break, you'd just go over to a table, pretend you're serving but instead you'd just passive smoke.

You're too scared to ask for a break anyway.

'Steven. Laddie'

Seamus says and he calls you to the other end of the bar. You walk around Brendan, who's currently bending over, wiping down the surfaces and your hand accidently brushes against him. You turn, make eye contact with him, although you fear that you might get another punch in the face, but he's giving you an unusual look. A look that you have never seen before.

His eyes darken slightly, he looks you up and down and his tongue touches his teeth in a seductive manor. You mirror him involuntarily, your tongue pressing against your own teeth and he suddenly snaps out of it, turns away from you and keeps his head down.

That all happened within about 2 seconds and when you carry on walking, Seamus thankfully hadn't realized that you'd stopped.

'Wages for tonight'

He mutters as he puts a fag in his mouth and he slaps £30 on the bar.

'But it was just a trial tonight Mr Brady'

You say and you push the money back towards him.

'Keep it lad. You did well tonight. Very impressive.'

He lights his cigarette, puffs out the smoke above his head and then picks up the money and forces it into your shirt pocket.

'Hop off home now son. See you tomorrow'

He winks at you.

Fucking winks!

It makes you cringe but you force a smile. The last thing you want to do is offend the boss. There is no negotiation here. You're not able to say '_No it's alright. There's still some stuff to be done' _so you slowly walk out from behind the bar, make your way out of the door but peer behind your shoulder last minute, catch Brendan's gaze and he too winks at you, a small smile on his face and that fuzzy feeling comes back, right in the pit of your stomach.

You return the smile, a cheesy one no doubt and you practically skip all the way home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You're awoken by the sound of heavy rain crashing against your bedroom window. It woke you from your nightmare, the one you have every single night, where you can hear your dad's feet on the landing, trudging along slowly.

A stumble.

From the alcohol no doubt.

Then he carries on walking, slow and dragged steps until he halts suddenly. You can see the shadow of his feet through the gap at the bottom of your door and you feel yourself freeze. Even though this is all happening in your sub-conscious, you can still feel it happening in reality, every muscle freezing into place, tense and rigid. Then you hear his hand find the handle with a small thump.

Your breathing quickens, hot and erratic, yet no matter how much you inhale, it never feels like enough, like your lungs are deliberately constricting to prevent you from breathing, almost as if it's a defence mechanism. If you don't breathe and don't move, he won't see you.

Then a beam of superficial light enters your room, blinds you and you scrunch up your eyes, bring your duvet up to cover your face slightly, but as he gets closer, his shadow falls over you, blocks the ray, and you hear the familiar squeak of your door closing, hoping and praying that you don't hear it click.

But you do.

Now you're trapped.

You hide under the covers, breathe in your own Carbon Dioxide, too afraid to come up for air and you're trembling, your small, 8 year old body quaking in fear, knowing what's going to happen next.

Then he rips the covers off you, a smirk on his face, his eyes scanning and running over your sweaty body and thankfully, tonight, that is where it ends.

You're grateful for the storm tonight. Usually you have to re-live the entire experience, physically feel your insides burning when you wake up in a ball of heat and sweat.

Although there was something else in your head.

A boy.

Younger than you but he had a smile that made your heart jump into your throat, made you feel like you were choking, your breath physically stuck. His eyes, so rich in a coral blue, so deep, enticing, beautiful, you want to drown in them, see into his soul and make a place there for yourself.

He is so naive, so young, so inexperienced, yet you want to try and shield him from the dangers of the world. There's something about him, a vulnerability, a weakness, it kicks in an instinct, makes you want to take him into your arms and never let him go.

On the other hand, you want to push him as far away as possible. He's dangerous. About as dangerous as a puppy but he could unlock the gates to some of your deepest and darkest secrets. Not just what you have suffered at the hands of your father, but other things that you're not proud of and things that you have seen that you'll never forget.

* * *

The next time you are awoken, it's by your alarm clock, the loud, high pitched noise, piercing your ear drums.

'Oh for fuck sake'

You mumble into the pillow, reach out a hand lazily and grab your alarm, throw it across the room and watch it smash against the wall and shower to the floor in tiny pieces.

'Brendan! Get down here now!'

You hear your dad shout from the bottom of the stairs and you jump up in a flash. The last thing you want is for him to come up here and find you in your boxers. You quickly change into your fresh uniform, run into the bathroom and clean your teeth, ruffle up your hair with some styling wax then jog down the stairs.

Seamus is there with a coffee in hand, a hangover from hell by the looks of things. His eyes are dark and heavy, he's pale, almost yellow looking. The sight makes you shiver, despite the fact that you've seen it multiple times.

'Made you some toast Bren. How's your face?'

Cheryl waves to you, flicks her finger, indicating for you to go and sit next to her. She's made you toast with seedless jam.

She's such a good sister.

You'd almost forgotten about the bruises on your face. Even when you had looked in the mirror, you had failed to realize. Probably because you have seen the sight so many times, it doesn't faze you anymore.

'Um... Yeah it's okay. Getting better'

You take a large bite out of your toast, finally noticing how hungry you actually are.

'You alright?'

Cheryl asks and she turns in her seat, her hand stroking down your shoulder.

'Yeah. I'm always alright'

You reply, a small yet unconvincing smile on your face. She simply nods, a look of slight disappointment, like she is hurt that you're not telling her something.

'So Brendan. That line of girls must be getting bigger eh son? What with your Brady good looks.'

Seamus comes and sits next to you and you're immediately on guard, your seating position becoming rigid and stiff. You cough uncomfortably because this is one of those deliberate questions that he asks to make you feel like a dick because you haven't got a girlfriend. He wants to get inside your head, yet he knows, knows there is something different about you.

'I'm just... I'm just focusing on my studies Da'

You reply but you immediately regret saying that. You should have lied and said yes, then gone out and seduced a young, willing girl.

'I wondered why none of the girls from Dublin's fair city were banging our door down. More interested in the lads are we?'

He says and your blood starts to boil. He's put you right on the spot, completely masked his true meaning from Cheryl and she doesn't even stir, doesn't even acknowledge your conversation in all honesty.

His smile, grin, sadistic and full of pleasure makes your stomach churn, makes you think back to the times just before he touched you. That same smile. He made you feel dirty, alienated. Like a freak that's living amongst humanity.

'Um... I'm gunna... I'm gunna be late.'

You kick back the chair, lunge for your school bag on the back of the kitchen door and make your way out of the house without another word. Cheryl doesn't even have the time to slip in a protest, tell you to 'wait for her'.

As soon as you get out of the door and turn to make your way to the end of the drive, you come face to face with Steven.

'Holy fuck!'

You jump out of your fucking skin, your back crashing against your front door. You cling to your chest, try to keep your heart inside of your body.

'Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you'

There it is.

That smile.

So perfect and... cute. Innocent. His teeth, so perfectly straight and you want to lick them all.

No.

Stop it!

'Was... just coming to call for Cheryl'

He's trying to make conversation, but you're too busy trying to keep your organs inside of your body.

'Whatever'

You barge past him, crash your shoulders together. You need to be away from him, need to get as far away from him as possible. He interrupts every rational thought. Like when a microphone is put next to a speaker. He drowns out everything legitimate. You can't think straight when he is with you. But you can't think of anything else when you're apart.

You practically run to school, seeing as you haven't worked out or done anything remotely physical in the past few days. You've barely broken a sweat by the time you reach the gates, you're out of breath though. The passive smoking does nothing for your health regime.

* * *

You sit at your normal table at lunch with Paddy at your side, stuffing down a sandwich as usual.

'You coming to the game tonight?'

He asks with his mouth full.

'Pad. Seriously? You ask me this all the time. I'm working tonight'

You understand that he is only checking because he hopes that one day you'll have a day off. But with Seamus as a father, that isn't likely to happen.

'Sorry. Was just asking.'

You sigh in regret. The last thing you want to do is push away the man who you consider as your only friend. You have no one as it is.

'Mate... I'm sorry.'

He shakes his head in modesty, stuffs his face with yet more food. You feel yourself freeze to the spot when you see Mr Price stroll into the canteen. He looks you up and down warily, makes sure you're not getting yourself into trouble. Then he scans the rest of the canteen until he spots what he is evidently looking for. You follow his gaze and are surprised when he walks over to Steven.

You see him put a hand tentatively on Steven's shoulder and the boy looks up cautiously, like he's afraid he has done something wrong.

In all honesty, everyone is scared of Mr Price. Down every hall you'd hear _Mr Price scares the shit out of me_ or _he's such a wanker_.

One of the two.

Mr Price whispers something into Steven's ear, and you see the boy shiver slightly, practically see the tingle run down his spine.

When he finishes talking, his hand touches the small of Steven's back and your eyes widen in shock. You've never seen a teacher interact with a student like that before. You almost feel sick because that is wrong, touching a student with intimacy. It may not have been a sexual gesture but it is still an alarming sight.

You look about to see if anyone else has seen it too, but everyone is continuing on as normal, swerving around Mr Price so they don't obstruct his path. He is like Moses, parting the red sea of teenagers.

You don't really know what happens next. Your feet take you over to Steven involuntarily and you're stood behind him, watching as he selects his food.

You think you're waiting to talk to him.

When he turns, he knocks his tray into you and his bottle of juice plummets to the floor. Your instincts kick in and you drop onto one knee and catch it before impact.

Your actions are almost robotic and he looks at you in shock, but there is envy there too, other emotions that you're not too sure about.

You straighten up and place the bottle back on the tray and smile at him.

'Wow. Thanks.'

He beams at you, looks at the bottle in disbelief. He quickly analyses you, stares at your crotch and lips longer than necessary and it makes you shift on your feet. You're turning into that pathetic bag of nerves again.

Fuck.

'It's fine. What was all that about?'

You're straight down to the point. You try and deny yourself that it's because you... care... for the boy. You don't want what happened to you, to happen to him.

'What was what?'

He asks, his eyes shifting away from yours.

'Pricey talking to you'

He looks at you as if you have slapped him across the face.

'Why do you ask?'

He says, a little too warily for your liking.

He's hiding something and you're going to find out what.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ste's P.O.V**

Why is Brendan suddenly trying to delve into your personal life?! This is nothing to do with him. That's another thing that you find infuriating about him.

He's a nosey bastard.

'Pricey is never like that... with anyone. Why was he talking to you?'

He asks as he steps a little closer, his eyes beginning to darken with intimidation, attempting to make you feel ostracised and belittled. You take a small step back, cling to your food tray and try to prevent yourself from shaking. He's making you feel jittery. You're kind of scared, but you're kind of aroused as well from his radiated heat, from those eyes and that muscular body.

'I don't know do I? He was telling me that he wanted to have a meeting that's all'

He believes you. You see his face change, the lines on his forehead straighten out but then his expression is replaced by one of confusion, as if he is trying to suss you out but you know nothing of what Mr Price is going to say. You are in the dark about this as much as he is.

'A meeting? About what?'

He steps closer again, just a few inches separating you now and you can smell him, his deodorant, his natural scent and you try to inhibit yourself from just dropping your tray, grabbing him and smelling him.

Why the fuck does he do this to you? Turn you into a pile of nerves, a helpless wreck, completely uncontrollable and shaky.

'I don't know Brendan! Anyway this is nothing to do with you right. It's my business not yours!'

You try to stomp past him like queen bitch but he catches you by the wrist, his very touch like a static electric shock and you freeze, in fear of his unpredictability, how he suddenly turns from cool and collected to a violent monster. You don't plan on being the victim of someone else's abuse as well.

He looks at you with shadowed eyes, his face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your cheeks, warm and shallow and it causes yours to speed up with anticipation. Is he going to...Course not. He isn't gay. But the way he is looking at you now, there is almost sincerity, like a warning, like he is worried about you.

Brendan Brady doesn't care for anyone.

It feels like an eternity, like the life around you has come to a complete halt. You've lost yourself, drowned completely in his presence, in his touch, in his eyes and soul.

His grip loosens slightly and it's evident that he is zoning back in a lot quicker than you are. You still feel like your floating, like there is no atmosphere and gravity has become a myth. You're weightless, drifting hopelessly into the dangerous abyss.

You snatch your wrist back when his grip is loose enough and he blinks back into reality, as do you, taking in the familiar chaotic surroundings of the school canteen. He walks off without saying another word, crashes through the fire exit, ignoring every protest from Paddy.

You've suddenly lost your appetite.

What even happened just then?

Was he wanting some juicy gossip? Was he just being a nosey fucker as usual? Was he... worried?

You don't know.

He leaves you so confused, so conflicted. One minute he acts like he cares, interfering with your life to try and protect you from something that you're unaware of, like he wants to keep you safe, keep you close without proximity yet other times he is so distant, pushing you away, like you're a danger to him or he's a danger to you.

* * *

When the end of the day comes, you are again, a nervous wreck. Not because of Brendan, you're well over that, but because it is time for your meeting with Mr Price.

You're currently stood outside of his office, your palms moist with sweat and you are picking at your nails, scraping out any dirt from underneath them just to try and occupy yourself, to try and distract the nerves.

Jesus.

Are you in trouble? Did you do something wrong? Is he going to expel you for something even though you are sure you haven't done anything wrong?

Fuck!

You bounce your leg up and down, let out a breath of impatience. You want this over and done with already. The tension is too much, too overbearing.

'Ste?'

The familiar voice of Mr Price rips straight through you, pierces your ear drums and you snap your head in the direction of it, only to see him standing a few feet away. He has a smile on his face...a fucking smile!

'Come in'

He says, not in a tone of annoyance either, but one that is welcoming. Maybe you aren't in trouble.

You quickly stand, worried that you're being rude and he unexpectedly holds out a hand and you forget what to do.

'You're supposed to shake it'

He says, a smile still on his face and that takes you back to the cellar, when you went to make peace with Brendan, a complete parallel.

'Oh right. Yeah'

You shake his hand, are surprised at the delicacy of his grip. He looks like he could crush your hand with ease.

You stare past him, look at his desk with two chairs placed in front of it and slowly trudge past him to go and occupy one.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

He's nervous. Why is he nervous?

He's shaking his leg up and down, picking at his nails and a thin layer of sweat is forming across his brow. You only wish that you knew what was going through his head, the boy fascinates you but you can't just go and ask him what he's thinking. That'd be weird.

You stare at him from afar, peek out from behind a pillar and watch him.

Why is he hiding something?

Of course it isn't any of your business but it still intrigues you and the way Mr Price touched Steven at lunch wasn't normal, wasn't a typical sign of a student/teacher relationship.

You hope to god that it isn't what you think, because that's sick. Being with a man in general is sick but being with one who is old enough to be your dad is plain disgusting.

Steven isn't stupid enough to tie himself up in something like that though is he? Surely not. He speaks like a wise man, like he knows what's good and bad. All the time you have known him, he has made you see things differently, like the world isn't as bad as it seems. He etches in some positivity, some happiness into your life that you have failed to receive from your own family.

Of course, Seamus was never going to provide you with that.

You pull back slightly when you see the office door open and Mr Price emerge, if he catches you spying, then he'll kick your ass and you'll get even further into his bad books.

Steven is still a nervous wreck, maybe he really didn't know what this was about. Unless he is in trouble.

Shit. This is all your fault. You should have looked out for him. Such a young and naive boy that doesn't know stupidity when he sees it. You should have protected him.

He's your friend right? And friends take responsibility for each other.

Your thoughts are distracted when you hear the door shut and everything seems eerily quiet. The small thud of Steven's foot against the floor seemed to fill the silence heavily. And now it's gone.

You hear the small hum of Mr Price's voice inside his office and you look around quickly to see if anyone is about before heading over slowly to the door, trying to act as natural as possible. You press your ear against it, try to fathom what he is saying but you can't quite piece it together. He's relatively quiet, his tone is gentle, something completely out of the norm. You press your ear a little harder against the wood, close your eyes to enable you to concentrate, shallow your breath so it doesn't distract you.

Fuck.

The next thing you know, you're not outside of the office anymore.

You're inside it.

Flat on the floor, on your front.

You hadn't realized that your elbow was pressing down against the handle.

Idiot.

You see a pair of shoes enter your eye line and you peer up sheepishly, only to be met by Pricey's infuriated gaze. He looks like a bull, steam practically coming out of his nose, his eyes nearly red with anger.

'What do you think you're doing Brady?'

He asks calmly and you make no sudden movements to get up off the floor. You swallow, quickly glance at Steven who has tears in his eyes, yet he is blinking them away. He turns away from you, as if he is trying to compose himself.

Why is he upset?

Has this piece of shit said something to upset him?!

You glance back at Pricey and his face hasn't changed. He lunges down and grabs the back of your collar, hauls you to your feet and shoves you out of the door.

'Were you trying to listen in on our conversation? It was confidential!'

He barks, his hands balled into fists, shaking almost.

'What have you said to him?'

You ask, Steven is your main concern right now. You couldn't give a shit if he expels you on the spot. But that boy in there is something you care about, you'd be the same if it were Cheryl. But somehow... this is different.

'That is none of your concern, hence the reason that this meeting was carried out in an enclosed environment! A private matter! Who do you think you are boy?'

He's closer to you now, face to face and god he's huge!

You're tall yourself but he is at least 3 or 4 inches taller.

'Sir. Wait'

A small voice manages to penetrate the commotion between the pair of you, and you both shoot round to see Steven leaning against the doorframe. He wipes his nose with the cuff of his blazer, blinks several times then looks directly at you.

'I asked Brendan to wait for me. I told him I'd be here and I think he got held up at his last class.'

He subtly winks at you, so subtle that Mr Price doesn't even notice.

There it is again. He's protecting you, yet this time, you appreciate it. You don't feel small, you don't feel patronised or intimidated. He's doing what friends do for each other.

'Yeah... Yeah um...I needed to ask Mr Turner something and then I came here, but Steven had already gone in. I wasn't trying to listen... I...I leaned against the door and fell in'

He doesn't believe you. You can tell by his eyes. He sees you gulp, sees you shift on your feet. You've never been good at controlling your body language and you're digging yourself a hole of lies and he sees straight through you.

'Me and Brendan work together. We have a shift later on'

Steven says and you nod in affirmation.

He continues to stare at you, sinks you lower and lower into the floor and without warning, he pivots on one foot, hooks his arm around Steven's shoulders and pulls him back into the office.

'5 minutes'

He says before slamming the door shut.

* * *

When Steven next emerges, his face is no longer flushed red and his eyes aren't glazed with tears. You shoot up from your seat, but don't catch sight of Pricey again.

'What happened?'

'Oh for fuck sake Brendan what is wrong with you?!'

He shoves past you, clashes your shoulders together and you are left frozen to the spot. What are you doing wrong? You thought that was what friends do, ask what's wrong and what happened when a situation occurred.

'Woah woah woah wait a second'

You grab hold of his wrist but he yanks it back and carries on walking.

Do you follow him?

Do you leave him?

No. Of course you follow him. You haven't done anything wrong!

'Steven! Hey hang on a second... what happened in there? Why were you crying?!'

He continues to ignore you and storms out of the school gates, yet you stay firmly on his trail. You _**will**_ get an answer out of him.

'Don't walk away from me!'

You shout and lunge at him, grab hold of his shoulders firmly and whirl him around.

'Get your hands off me!'

'Just listen to me please'

He shrugs your hands away, but doesn't strut off, so you assume this is some sort of progress.

'You embarrassed me Brendan! That was nothing to do with you! What the hell were you doing, listening in on my business?!'

'I just wanted to know what was going on!'

He shoves you then, shoves you hard and you nearly fall to the floor but you hit a wall instead and you wince in pain.

'No you wanted to get some gossip about my life, so you could share it with your mates, laugh at me behind my back because that's what you do! You're a bully, you belittle people and you crush anything and everything to make yourself feel better. Well I tell you what, I am not gunna be part of your sick little games right?!'

How could he think that? You don't want intel to spread, you want it to prove your thoughts wrong, you want it because you...

'I just wanted to know what was wrong with you! You helped me so why can't I try and help you?!'

That's what you feel. Remorse, sorrow, like you want to help him because nobody has ever bothered with trying to help you apart from him. And now you want to return the favour. You'd do anything, be anything for him, whether that be a friend, or a stranger to confide in.

'Why can't I try and help you?'

You ask, when you don't receive a response, and you see his eyes begin to glisten with tears. His wounded face is so childlike, so vulnerable, and it hurts you, slashes at your emotions and makes you feel like you're being drained of any such happiness.

'Because you are just as broken as I am'

He replies, breaking down into a sob.

You exhale deeply, close your eyes and drown in his wise yet true words, but this isn't about you. This is about him.

You lightly pull on his blazer, push away from the wall slightly and wrap him up in your arms, rest your cheek against his fluffy hair and rake your fingers through it, your other hand stroking across his shoulders and he breaks down completely. You feel his arms circulate your waist, his hands flatten against the contours of your back and you feel slightly self conscious.

You wince at the sensitivity , then remember that you had forgotten to rub your Bio-Oil on it this morning.

His warm touch radiates through your shirt and practically acts as a heat pack, begins to send a buzz through your skin and it suddenly doesn't hurt anymore.

The boy begins to cling to you even harder, his face pressed against your chest but you hold him through it, shield him from everything that is a possible harm and you make a promise to yourself, no matter what happens, you aren't going to stop caring for this boy, and you're going to keep him safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ste's P.O.V**

Brendan is warm. His chest is broad, muscular yet soft, you can feel the heat radiate through his t-shirt onto your cheek. His strong arms circulate your shoulders, protect you, shield you, completely engulf you.

Your previous judgments on him weren't entirely correct. Sure he constantly comes out with witty quips that are designed to piss you off, he evidently has anger issues and is way too sensitive, but he cares.

He holds you for at least ten minutes as you cry into him, tears dribbling down your face and absorbing into his shirt. He simply strokes your hair, shares a certain empathy with what you're feeling. He doesn't attempt to calm you down, he senses that that'll potentially make things worse.

You feel safe at the moment, despite the cold winter air that's icing up your lungs, and the fact that you're in the middle of an alley way that has mid day drunks stumbling around in it. Brendan's embrace does something to you, makes you warm on one of the coldest nights, makes your chest feel heavy and dense like you're drowning in a pool of emotions that you don't know the meaning of.

'Right...'

You sniff, pull away from Brendan's embrace and wipe your snotty nose with your blazer cuff. You can't look at him, can't meet his deep gaze that manages to penetrate the walls that you've built with ease.

'Better get to work hadn't we?'

You want to divert the attention away from yourself now. You don't want questions being asked about what happened with Mr Price. It was something _you_ didn't expect and it isn't something that you want getting around. You need to come to terms with it first before you tell anyone.

'You sure?'

Brendan says, and he steps a little closer, his breathe ghosting against your face and you can smell the mint from his chewing gum and you try and refrain from inhaling and just... melting.

'Yeah. Let's go'

You pivot on one foot and start off quickly, shaking all of the emotion out of your system. Tonight, your patience is wearing thin. You're not in the mood for pathetic bravado that will make your blood boil because you'll blow within a few seconds.

'Wait... Steven wait'

You can feel him catching up to you but you don't stop, you continue to charge down the street towards the pub. You want to start your shift as quickly as possible to get your mind off of your current predicament.

'Don't walk away from me'

Brendan grabs hold of your wrist, prevents you from taking another step and he pulls you violently, nearly down to the floor.

'What the...'

You tug your wrist back and your eyes widen at the red fingerprints that have been forced onto your skin.

'I... I didn't grab you hard...'

His voice is full of panic. He draws his hands away and awkwardly shoves them into his pockets out of sight. His eyes dart about, following random pedestrians to try and make sure that they didn't witness what happened.

You rub your bruising wrist lightly with your palms and gawp at him. What the fuck?!

'What... What happened back there Steven? What did Pricey say?'

So that's why he comforted you. He really did want the juicy gossip, fucking cheeky bastard. One kind act and now he thinks he can delve into every corner of your life?!

'You are unbelievable!'

You charge off again, break into a run, even though you have no idea why you're running. You'll both end up in the pub, working side by side, but you need to get away from this, away from him, away from all of the mind fuckery, and conflicting emotions.

You run down the road, pass the city goers at what feels like light speed, sweat quickly beginning to form on your forehead and drip down your cheeks. Your lungs burn, literally feel like they're beginning to dry out.

Within a few minutes of weaving in and out, up and down streets you are out of breath, exhausted in fact. Sweat glazes your brow, you feel like a hot scolding iron has been forced down your throat as your wind pipe is constricting and tight.

You rest your hands on your knees and cough up some phlegm and bile that has risen in your mouth. You gather it on your tongue and spit it out onto the floor, gaining a few tutts from the elderly, yet you give a look of pure ice, venomous and cold.

'Fuck'

You straighten up and slowly walk in the direction of the pub. Your muscles feel strangely weak. They're shaking, your knees trembling like jelly and you have to come to a halt again. You put a hand out and lean against a wall of another alleyway, tucked away in the shadows as you don't want people to assume that you're a day time piss head. You try to summon the strength to continue but you can't and you suddenly collapse, hitting the floor with an almighty thud.

It's cold down here. The cool concrete contrasts highly with your sudden feverish skin, yet you feel at peace. You stare up at the evening sky, the stars shining bright like diamonds even though it isn't quite dark enough to see many of them. You can't hear anything. All sound is nonexistent. The congested cars, and shouts of drunks have merely been erased. All you can hear is the sound of your own breath, heaving in and out with such force that your stomach hurts.

The next thing you know, Brendan is in your eye line, evidently shouting your name and shaking you but you can't hear him. His mouth is moving, but you can't fathom anything else that he's saying.

'What?'

You say, but you can't hear _yourself_ either. You don't know whether that was a shout or a whisper.

You feel his warm hand brush against your forehead, tangle into your hair as he looks about frantically. You watch his lips, try your hardest to lip read what he's saying and the only thing you can make out is him saying _fuck it_.

He hooks one arm under your legs, the other behind your back and he lifts you into his arms with ease, tips you so your head lolls against his shoulder and you feel that same sense of security as earlier, the warm fuzz in the pit of your chest.

You can see the pulse in his neck flickering a mile a minute and you question as to why that is. Did he follow and run after you? Is it your weight in his arms? Or is it because he's... worried?

He's taking you somewhere, you have no clue where. You aren't paying attention to your surroundings or what buildings you pass. You don't have the energy to keep your eyes open. They feel heavy, almost like they're deprived of sleep and insomnia is taking over.

His breath is heavy against your forehead, yet his step is relatively light and you're not sure as to whether you have drifted off into a slumber. Everything is so... peaceful, so warm and you snuggle into Brendan's body, curl your fingers into his shirt and allow him to carry you to his planned destination.

* * *

The next thing you know, you're at home, lying in your bed with a cold flannel across your head. All of the energy that had left your body earlier seems to be lurking dormant in your muscles, and you feel completely fine. You attempt to sit up, a little too quickly apparently and you feel dizzy. Your eyes spin as well as your head and you fall back into your pillow.

'Woah hey. Don't go overboard yeah?'

The familiar voice warms your bones, right to the marrow and you relax into your mattress when you feel Brendan's hand touch your shoulder.

'What happened?'

You ask, even though you know perfectly well the events of what occured, but you want to hear it from someone else's point of view.

'I dunno. You just collapsed and passed out'

That's the simplified answer, one you are willing to accept as neither of you know what happened, but something else is burning in your mind, a question, an itch that you need to scratch.

'How... How did you know that I lived here?'

You ask, and you gently start to sit up again, using his offered hand as leverage and you lean back against the headboard, brow furrowed, eyes never leaving his, searching, questioning, craving an answer to ease your curiosity.

'You are forgetting that my sister is your best friend.'

He replies, in a deep voice, his tone like velvet, something that's soft on your ears. You smirk at the idiocy and obviousness of that question and then nod, your lips curved in a downward smile.

'Yeah. Wait... how did you get in?'

Another burning question, one that you hope doesn't have an obvious answer. He reaches behind him and throws a set of keys into the air, which land in his palm with a small clash of metal against metal.

'Those... are my... keys'

You lower your head in embarrassment, to which he simply chuckles darkly and places them your bed side table.

'What about..,'

'They're out'

He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. He knows a lot more about you than you first thought. He knows _where_ you live, that you live with friends rather than your parents. It leads you to wonder what else he knows about you.

'Before you ask, I rang Cheryl to tell her what happened. Seamus knows too'

Seamus.

You find it strange that a son would call his father by his forename, although that speaks words to you. Using his first name as a form of address says that he doesn't see him as family, instead he sees him as some sort of monster that isn't worthy of being a father, isn't worthy of the name _dad_. It gives you some sort of insight into their relationship, the evident tension that runs through Brendan's body when he mentions his name. It fascinates you.

'Right. Sorry that I kept you. He must be taking it out of your wages'

He lets out a small snort of laughter, his head shaking at the, what you assume, stupid statement. How is that funny?

'What?'

You spit, patience still wearing quite thin, curiosity and venom etched into your voice. He seems like he is mocking you, like you are plain stupid for saying such a thing.

'You think I get paid?'

'Don't you?'

He laughs again, takes his hand off your shoulder and rests his chin in it as he looks at you, that fucking smirk still on his face.

'Let's just say he takes... advantage of the fact that I'm his son.'

You don't like the emphasis he puts on the word 'advantage'. It catalyses some sort of reaction and makes your skin crawl, makes you feel like you have spiders running down your arms and spine.

'Do you... want something to eat?'

You ask after you notice that he's lost in his thoughts, thoughts that evidently haunt him, take over at any moment. He doesn't snap out of it straight away but when he does, he smiles a genuine smile, like he's thankful to be bought back into reality.

'No it's fine. I'd better go'

He goes to get up but you pull him back down forcefully, acutely unaware of your actions until he stares at you in surprise. You don't know why but you can't leave things like this, so unanswered, so unexplained. You need something. Anything.

'W-why did you follow me?'

You ask after a cloudy and awkward silence. You can't bring yourself to look at him just yet. You're acting weird, even you know that but you need answers.

'I...I just...'

You've skilfully caught him off guard. This is strange, him having nothing to say although he suddenly turns shifty, his fingers interlocking and his eyes dart about the room, everywhere but your face.

'You just...?'

You're pushing it, stretching the boundaries further than you ever have before and you know this is a giant risk but he can't deny you an answer, can't leave now when something so abnormal has just occurred.

'I just... just...fuck'

He's stumped for words. Whatever answer you were looking for, Brendan isn't going to give it to you. He's too full of pride to admit that he cares for someone other than himself.

You let out a sigh of disappointment and let go of his arm, but he doesn't pull it away, doesn't run for the door like you thought he would.

'I just... wanted to make sure that you were okay'

The words sound like they have physically been punched out of him, completely against his will, but there is sincerity behind them and you believe him. Finally he has sucked up his pride and actually told you something that you thought you'd never hear.

'Really?'

You ask. You want to hear it again, want to hear him say the words, however you only receive a nod this time, but that doesn't matter. You get up onto your knees, a more comfortable position for you and you try to hide the fact that you've gotten a little closer to him.

'So... you followed me?'

You're being a cheeky fucker, trying to make him elaborate and admit to what you already know, but you're dipping your toe into the water, seeing how far down you can go before you know that enough is enough.

'Yeah'

He lets out a sigh of defeat. He knows your game, knows what you're trying to do to him.

'Yeah I did. I followed you. You know me Steven. I don't give up easily. When I want to know something, I always find out'

His response is cold, completely venomous and sharp and you don't know whether to be scared and take that as a threat, or laugh at him. He can't force anything out of you and there is no way that he'll find out any other way.

'You still not over the whole meeting with Mr Price? For fuck sake. Take the hint! It's nothing to do with you!'

You lean back on your heels, try to distance yourself because the tender moment that you were sharing before has completely disintegrated.

'For god sake Steven. What are we in? Primary school? We aren't a bunch of girls that keep pathetic secrets'

The situation you are in is anything but pathetic. It's life changing. You laugh in his face, get back into his personal space and act like the hard man. You're going to stick up for yourself. Who does this twat think he is? He's simply making stupid assumptions when he doesn't know the severity of the burden.

'You don't know anything. So shut your mouth Brendan right? It's nothing to do with you, so keep your abnormally large, Irish nose outta my business!'

He gets on his knees too, still 2/3 inches taller than you but you don't back down, you're not going to be shit on a shoe to anyone. Especially not him.

'I'm not trying to invade into your personal life, but he made you upset and I wanna know why!'

'_He_ didn't make me upset at all. It was the issue that we were talking about, which is again, nothing to do with you. Why are you even here?'

He bores into you, makes you feel so uncomfortable but you don't show it, don't let it belittle you because he needs to be put in his fucking place.

'If you have suddenly forgotten, I am the one that saved your arse out there. You could still be lying on the street if it weren't for me!'

Oh that's it. The guilt trip. You've had that many times and you don't intend to let it falter you. You're standing your ground on this.

'Well I was going to say thank you until you started being an arsehole! Again!'

You know you shouldn't escalate this argument even further but he's being a dick and he fucking infuriates you, gets you so wound up with how his personality can change within a matter of seconds. He's hot and cold, yes then no, up and fucking down and you don't know where you stand with him.

'Me being an arsehole? You could at least appreciate me bringing you home. Be thankful that I did follow you! Who knows what could have happened!'

You're full blown arguing, but you can't help feeling attracted to this side of him, the defensive side. He's so close to you now that you can feel his breath on your face, heavy and laboured. Your eyes break away from his gaze and slip down to his lips, pink and kissable and you lick your own lips in anticipation. Before you can stop yourself, you lunge forward and kiss him, mouth slightly parted. You freeze slightly when you know what you've done but then you realise that he's responding, his warm mouth moving against yours, kissing you back in the moment of heat. You close your eyes, savour this beautiful moment where you and him are just kissing in sync, lips hot and wet and dragging against each other. It's slow and sensual, warm and sweet and you let out a small groan as you lift your hands and touch his back, flatten your palms against the muscular contours.

He suddenly breaks apart, pushes you into the bed forcefully and practically flies across the room towards the door.

'What the fuck are you doing?!'

You shake your head in disbelief, completely stuck for words, your tongue is tied and your breath is stuck in your oesophagus. He glares at you in shock, possibly anger, his brows pulled together, eyes wide and fists clenched.

'No don't you do that! Don't you dare try and make this my fault! You kissed me back!'

He's breathing a mile a minute, heavy and erratic, and he's practically shaking, sweat forming on his forehead. He turns, forces open the door, allows it to slam against the adjacent wall and storms out, one hand behind him, pressing against his lower back, almost in pain and you frown after him.

Do you go after him?

Leave him to cool down?

You're glued to your bed, fingers reaching up to your damp lips, stroking, dragging and pressing against the bruises.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You run home, run as fast as you can, one hand still pressed against your back and the other touching your lips, a burning sensation still rippling through them and making them tingle. _He_ kissed _you._ Not the other way around. He made the move. This is his fault.

Although a part of you is screaming differently. You kissed him back and you know you did, remember the feel of his soft lips, his hair brushing against your forehead and noses rubbing together, exchanging of spit and dragging of hot mouths.

You're in denial of how amazing it was, how you wanted to carry on but as soon as he laid his hands on you, all of that disappeared. A pain shot through you, not the normal sort. It was both physical and mental. What you did afterwards was a blur. You don't remember leaving, you just remember breaking into a sprint once you'd got half way down the street.

When you reach your house, you crash through the front door and leg it up the stairs, your back feeling like it's being stabbed perpetually by knives. You run to your room, slide your shirt over your head and lunge for your Bio-Oil, pour a load into your palm and slap it against your back. It feels like such a relief, like when you burn yourself and run it under cold water. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you do so, eye up every single, perfect circular scar that litters your back and shoulders. Your dads face flashes into your head when you run your fingers over the old and the new. They seem like a collection now, you remember how and when you received them, can distinguish the differences.

You look at the clock on your bedside table, realize how late it is.

Steven's fault.

He'd been unconscious for a few hours, each of which you sat and waited for him to wake up.

Your recollection is suddenly disrupted when you hear your bedroom door creak open. You see your dads reflection in the mirror and you quickly chuck your shirt back on, stretch it down low because you feel incredibly self conscious.

'Home late aren't you Brenda?'

He says, his voice slurred and deep and heavy, tongue tied from his evident binge drinking.

'C-Cheryl told you'

'Yes. Looking after young Steven I hear'

He stumbles in, shuts the door behind him and the walls of your bedroom start getting smaller, become transparent and his sick, callous ways begin to flood your mind, causing your whole body to tremble as he gets closer, step by step.

'Got a thing for him have you?'

He growls, comes to a halt when he is inches away, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes strong on his breath. It makes you squirm, take a minute step back, only for him to take another forward.

'No. I'm not like that Da. He's Cheryl's friend. I helped him. She would have done the same.'

You don't look at him while you respond, it makes you feel too deceitful, knowing that you're lying.

He grunts a laugh, a demonic grin on his face. Out of the blue, he grabs you by the ear, pulls you over to your bed and throws you on it, digs his knee into your thy so you can't return to your feet and you're about to shout, about to do something about this abuse that you've received since you were eight years old, but he shoves a hand over your mouth, pinches your nose and prevents you from shouting.

'Been a long time hasn't it?'

He says as he pokes his tongue out, licks his lips and flicks his eyebrows up and down. You shake your head vigorously, wince at the pressure of his knee on your leg and try to shake him off, accidently banging against the wall several times.

He touches you, flattens his grubby hand against your groin and you freeze, your blood running thick through your veins, sweat still pricking your skin and your heart beats erratically against the walls of your chest, so loud that you're convinced he can hear it too.

He unbuckles your belt with one hand, is about to shove his hand down and touch you but the door swings open and Cheryl's head pops around the corner.

'What on earth is going on in here? I heard banging!'

Your temperature and heart begin to regulate as you realize that you've just been saved. You've never felt so relieved in your entire life. It's your dad who's frozen now, completely glued to the spot like a gargoyle.

'Urm... Just play fighting.'

He climbs off of your bed, stands in front of you, blocking Cheryl's view of your undone trousers and ridden up shirt.

'Weren't we son?'

He says, flicks his gaze back to you, searing and burning, stabbing, cutting and you have no choice but to oblige and agree.

'Yeah. Just messing.'

You only hope that your response wasn't convincing. You want Cheryl to know, but you can't ruin her childhood too. She thinks the world of that man, thinks the fucking sun shines out of his arse and you'd feel guilty as hell if you were to ruin that perfect picture for her.

Your Da ushers Cheryl out of the room, turns back and gives you a look of daggers, as if to say _It isn't over_. You finally feel like you can breathe again, like blood is actually circulating and your thoughts are fathomable.

'Holy fuck'

You sigh, and when you see the landing light turn off, you know that's it for the day, know that he won't be coming back to try his luck for a second time. It'd be too much of a risk now, so you slowly peel your trousers off and your shirt, hurl them across the room carelessly and flick off the light, jump into bed and wrap the duvet around you, wriggle and shiver slightly at the cold material pressing against your skin.

You let your mind wonder as you fall asleep and it typically wonders to a boy. Golden, skin like velvet, Bambi hooded lashes, skinny, lips that are biteable, a mouth that's lickable, hair that's pullable.

Your lips begin to tingle, almost like you can feel his mouth against yours, like your memory is becoming a reality again. It's a deep prickle, like pins and needles in every corner of your mouth as you remember the slow and sensual movement.

Your usual nightmare of a monster, is replaced by a dream of an angel.


	8. Chapter 8

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You feel a hand slip underneath the duvet, slide along the mattress and touch your leg. You aren't conscious enough yet to try and make a move. You're not even sure if this is real, or if it's a dream. The warm hand rubs your calf tentatively, gradually gets higher and higher until it's at the top of your thigh and suddenly your eyes shoot open, you jump out of your skin and prepare yourself.

'Hey it's okay. It's okay.'

You see Cheryl sat at the end of your bed, dressed in her school uniform, curly hair tied back in a pony tail, her young and vulnerable, girly features accentuated by her pink cheeks.

'What are you doing?'

You ask as you rub your palms into your eyes and cover your half naked torso with a pillow.

'You've overslept. Thought I'd better come and wake you up'

You glance at your clock, realize that you're half an hour late and you shoot out of bed, run over to your wardrobe and pull out a clean shirt.

'Why were you touching my leg? You usually jump on me'

'Well after you helped Ste last night, I thought I'd be nice to you for once'

She gets to her feet and starts straightening out your bed, something that she's done for as long as you can remember, even when you were kids and used to share a room, she'd make your bed every morning and now it's simply a habit.

You grab your tie and sling it around your neck, wait for Cheryl to finish your bed and then she ties it up for you because you're horrendous at doing it.

'Thank you Bren. For yesterday. Was he okay?'

Cheryl asks as she folds down your collar and does your top button.

'Um. Yeah. He was fine. Probably just over exerted himself, Scrawny little thing'

It feels slightly awkward talking to Cheryl about the same boy. You think that she has a crush on him, even though she knows he's gay. The thought stirs a strange kind of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. Are you jealous at the fact that you think she has a crush on someone and you're being over protective? Or is it because...

'Oi. Don't be nasty. Ste's nice and he's my friend.'

You cock your head, make it seem as if you're considering her statement about his kind nature. You know it's true, that he is a generally nice person, kind hearted although you deliberately try and see the bad side of him to try and put you off, to try and divert your feelings.

'Meh. He's okay. I did it for you Chez okay? Not for him'

Her lips curve into a gleaming smile and she stares at you in awe, her hands on your shoulders and she leans in to kiss your cheek.

'Thank you. You're the best brother ever'

With that, she skips off out of your room, leaves you to finish getting dressed and to pack your school bag. Once you've packed the appropriate books, you run downstairs into the kitchen, the smell of toasted crumpets making your mouth water.

You freeze as soon as you enter the kitchen and find Steven stood in front of the toaster, looking as scrawny and sexy as ever, knife in hand, buttering the crumpets.

'What are you doing here?'

You hiss, unable to move, yet he looks at you with warmth, a small smile on his face when he turns and sees you.

'Meeting Cheryl ain't I'

He says, as if this is normal. He kissed you yesterday and he's acting as if nothing has happened, that you didn't share... something. His calm and normal demeanour however seems to set the tone, seems to make things seem normal. A sister's best friend and her brother just... talking. That's normal right?

'H-...How are you feeling?'

You ask because you are generally interested, you're not asking for the sake of it, not to make phatic small talk. When he looks up from his buttering again though, he seems shocked that you have enquired about his well being.

'What you looking at me like that for?'

You spit defensively, straightening up your body to look all tall and mighty.

'Nothing. Just... I'm fine. Thanks for asking.'

He gets back to buttering, flinches slightly when the next set of crumpets pops out of the toaster. You feel awkward, not knowing whether to help him or to just leave and go to school. Instead you shuffle over to the sink and pour a glass of water, down the lot within ten seconds because you're parched.

'Here'

Steven's voice comes from beside you, startles you. It sharply cuts the silence, nearly makes you drop your glass. You twist your head, see that he's holding out a plate with three buttered crumpets on.

'These for Cheryl?'

You ask as you walk over to the dinner table. You're about to put them in her place when Steven says;

'No. They're for you'

You halt, almost like time itself has frozen. He made these... for you? This is the smallest thing but it has so much meaning, so much sentimentality that your heart feels dense, feels like it's being ripped apart but in the most pleasurable way.

'For me?'

You enquire, you want to make sure that you've heard him right because all you have done is be a prick to him, and yet he still carries out these small tasks, still shows this sort of care and consideration.

'Yeah. Do you not want them?'

He asks, still not turning around to look at you. You fear that your little snap might have scared him, might have hurt him. It was uncalled for and you're suddenly showered with a sense of remorse and regret.

'Yeah, I do. Um... Th-Thanks'

Without another word you tuck in, shove a whole crumpet into your mouth because you're suddenly hungry for some reason.

Holy fuck.

It tastes amazing. The butter oozes out onto your tongue, all melted and warm, slides down your throat and into your empty stomach. You can't help but let out a loud groan in satisfaction, lick your fingers to savour the taste.

You hear Steven chuckle at the counter, his back still facing you.

'Hey! Gordon Ramsay! What you laughing at?'

He chuckles even more, senses the humour in your tone and turns to finally look at you, his face gleaming and golden like silk, teeth bright and beautiful.

'I ain't no Gordon Ramsay! More like... Jamie Oliver.'

His smile does something to you, makes your heart leap into your throat. Thankfully you've swallowed your crumpet, otherwise you'd be choking on it right now. His gaze makes you feel pressured to praise his food, even though you know he isn't fishing for compliments.

'Um... These are really nice. Thanks'

Thats the best you can do. You're not going to go any further than that. You're shit with words, shit at generally being nice to people.

Another silence descends. You're both evidently avoiding the elephant in the room, both trying not to acknowledge what happened yesterday, even though that's all that has been going through your head since you left.

You feel like you should confront him about it, tell him that it meant nothing, even though the pull of your heart is telling you the complete opposite, screaming and cursing at your head for feeding you bullshit.

'Look about yesterday...'

You say simultaneously, at _exactly_ the same time, completely in sync and you both cut off at the same point as well. That was creepy shit.

'Just... Urmm...'

You realise that you've finished your crumpets, so you stand and put your plate in the sink, lean against the counter with your arms crossed, avoiding his gaze.

'It meant nothing'

You croak, not convincing in the slightest, but the feel of him next to you, his rigid and tense stance tells you that he is pissed off.

'It meant nothing? But... But you kissed me back...'

You can't look at his face, can't bring yourself to look into those Bambi eyes that you know will be filling with diamond tears. He chuckles, an angry one by the sounds of things.

'No. You're right. You're right. That meant nothing to you at all, that's why you kissed me back, that's why you followed me and that's why you dreamt of me last night!'

Every muscle in your body tenses, feels like it's been dipped in liquid Nitrogen and frozen.

'W-what are you talking about? How...'

You can't finish your sentence, still can't look at him.

'I didn't know that. I just guessed. But your reaction told me everything that I needed to know'

He said that with a smile, pure satisfaction etched into his voice and you practically kick yourself. You might as well have screamed it from a skyscraper at the top of your lungs.

'You wanted me to kiss you, wanted to feel my lips against yours'

This is his attempt at a seduction you assume.

Fuck.

It's working, his tone is like velvet, smooth and sensual, you can feel yourself turning feverish, your blood boiling and rushing through your veins.

'Stop'

You pin him against the counter, grab a fistful of his blazer and hold him there, your knees pressing into his thigh so he can't scramble away.

'Don't what?'

He asks, acting clueless and dumb and it pisses you off, gets right under your skin. You grit your teeth; clench your fists harder, so much so that you begin to shake as your knuckles turn white.

'Just stop it.'

'No Brendan right, you need to stop. Just admit it. You felt it, right here'

He balls his fist and presses it against the top of your stomach, rubs his thumb over your shirt and stares at you, bores into you so hard that you can feel it penetrate your skin. He's right. You felt something like you've never felt before. You can't even put a label onto that emotion because it was so powerful. But again, your head wins over your heart.

'I'm not a queer, so go and hit on someone else who's bent'

He gawps at you in disbelief, knows that you're lying through your teeth, yet he pulls you closer, curls his fingers underneath your shirt and it makes you suck in a breath, causes your windpipe to tighten and your grip to loosen.

'You telling me that you don't want this, that you can control yourself when we're this close?'

He stands on his tiptoes to emphasise his point, moves his face in close to yours, his lips inches away. Your breathing is erratic and heavy, completely uncontrollable in comparison to his and he smiles in triumph, giggles darkly and flicks his gaze to your lips.

That grin pisses you off, tips you over the edge and you grab hold of him again, stamp on his foot with your heal, causing him to yelp in pain but you muffle the sound with your palm.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not unless you want another nose bleed'

He squeaks against your palm, takes hold of your blazer and uses it as leverage to try and stay on his feet.

'What's going on here?'

Cheryl's voice interrupts, causes you to jump and you give Steven a look, one that says _If you say anything, I'll kill you_. You quickly and subtly straighten him out, pivot on one foot and meet her gaze.

'Nothing. Just having a mess about. Isn't that right Steven?'

You say, wrap an arm around Steven's shoulders, weigh him down almost.

'Yeah. Yeah'

He slaps a hand to your back, causing you to wince and tighten your grip on his shoulder, which he evidently notices because he yanks on the back of your blazer.

'Urm... I'll be right back. Steven made you crumpets'

You untangle yourself and run out of the kitchen, pelt up the stairs to your room and throw off your blazer.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck'

Your back burns, feels like hot oil is being poured over it and you try to undo your shirt, all fingers and thumbs so you eventually settle for sliding it over your head and throwing it on the floor in anger.

You scramble through the draws for your Bio-Oil, unscrew the cap as soon as you find it, pour a load into your palm and slap it against your back, rub it in a circular motion and your eyes roll into the back of your head at the relief. You reach a hand over your shoulder and rub there too for good measure.

'Brendan we're going!'

Cheryl shouts you from the bottom of the stairs, her voice not too loud because your dad is still in bed and god forbid him from waking up.

'Okay. Be down in a sec'

You pour some more oil into your hand and try to reach the parts that are still tingling from where you had missed. It's a struggle but you do it eventually and you sigh as all of the pins and needles come to an end.

'Brendan will you hurry..'

You shoot round, find Steven standing just outside your bedroom, glued to the landing, his eyes wide, mouth open in the perfect O shape.

'What's that on your back?'

He asks in a monosyllabic tone, completely stunned at the ugly sight of you.

'Nothing'

You lunge for your shirt and throw it back over your head, feel it stick to your back and you throw your tie over your head too, tighten it, then straighten out in the mirror. You see his reflection, still stood in the same place with the same gormless expression.

'Brendan what was it?'

He says, his ignorance and seductive tone completely gone from his voice, replaced by worry almost.

'It was nothing okay?!'

You pick your blazer up from off the floor, nudge past him, clash your shoulders together, hoping that'll stop him from asking his irritating questions. You feel like a hypocrite because you were doing the same thing to him about Mr Price.

You're out of the door before Cheryl can protest.

* * *

When the bell rings for lunch, you're relieved. The lesson seemed to be going on forever, probably because you weren't concentrating, instead your mind wondered back to this morning in the kitchen, when Steven's face was millimetres away from yours. You reflect on your feelings, how you wanted nothing more than to kiss him, explore every inch of his mouth with your tongue and every inch of his body with your hands.

You kick yourself for thinking about it, for _wanting_ it, but you're good at repressing feelings and emotions. The gravitational pull that you feel towards Steven is no different.

You walk down the corridor on your own, needing time to think of how you're going to handle Steven, how you're going to handle your feelings towards him. Then you spot the boy, walking with his head down and Mr Price walking in front of him. They've just come out from the canteen, you can tell as Steven has a fresh baguette in his hands.

'Am I in trouble?'

Steven asks, and Mr Price stops in front of him, turns around to come face to face and you quickly hide behind the wall before he sees you.

'Course not. Just seeing how you are. I know it was sudden and I didn't mean to simply drop the bombshell on you'

'I know. I just need time to adjust to... us... this'

Us? US? No fucking way! This can't be happening. So you were right?! Steven's having it on with Pricey?

You feel sick, so sick. The boy is young and Pricey is taking advantage of that, of his naivety, his vulnerability.

'We both do, but whenever you want me, you know where my office is and you've got my number'

You peer around the corner of the wall, see Steven nodding and then Mr price touches a hand to his face, strokes his thumb over his cheek and you're sure you see Steven flinch uncomfortably. Pricey suddenly mumbles something, too quiet for you to hear and then he walks off, leaves Steven standing in the corridor. This is your chance and you take it.

You slowly walk over to the boy, hands in your pockets, kind of proud because you now have one up on him.

'So... You and Pricey'

Your gruff voice makes him jump and he turns to you with tears in his eyes, makes you feel guilty for ear wigging but what you said to him was right, when you want to find something out, you will one way or another.

'Do one Brendan right'

He says as he wipes his nose, but he doesn't move, doesn't try to leave. He expects you to be the one who walks away.

'What's all this I heard eh? _Need to get used to... us'_

You try and mimic his voice but fail completely. It doesn't humour him. If anything it makes him more angry, a vein in his head beginning to bulge and his cheeks burning red.

'You were listening in again?! What the hell is wrong with you?!'

He goes to stride away, but you grab his wrist, prevent him from sassing off like queen bitch because you're going to get answers this time.

'No Steven, the question is... What's wrong with you?'

'I dunno what you mean'

He says, trying to yank his wrist back but your grip is too firm. You're not letting him go this time, not until you've heard it, heard a confession, prove that you've caught him red handed.

'You and Pricey at it like rabbits are you?'

You back him against a crevice in the wall, secluded, where no one will see that you're interrogating him, keeping him against his will.

'What are you chatting?'

He yells, his face scrunched up in horror, looking at you as if you're crazy.

'You heard. Why else would he give you his number?'

His eyes widen as he realizes the true extent of how much you've heard and he shakes his head, tries to make you think that you're wrong but he isn't fooling you, he isn't fooling anyone.

'You've got it wrong'

He says, finally breaks down into tears and you aren't sure why. It makes you panic. Have you done that to him? Was this your fault?

'Have I? Have I really? Not by the looks of it'

You spit, get him closer to breaking point, knowing that he'll crack eventually, knowing he'll break in two.

'For fuck sake! I'm his Godson'

**Leave a review in the box my treasures. I love reading them and hearing your reactions. I'd love to know what you think may happen next!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ste's P.O.V**

You hope he's happy, hope he is fucking proud of himself for getting you to breaking point. He still has hold of you, your blazer bunched up in his locked fists and he hasn't moved for about 2 minutes straight. You however, have just sobbed to yourself, bowed your head to avoid all eye contact because you're so mad at him right now that you fear you're going to punch him in the face or kick him in the place that should never be kicked.

You try to calm down because you've had your break down and it's time to move on, time to accept Mr Price into your life. He isn't a bad person. You know who is to blame for all of this.

'You gunna let me go or are we gunna stand here all day?'

You spit, shove him away from you slightly and then wipe your nose with your hand. You walk past him and sit on the steps that lead out to the English block, throw your head into your hands and let out a deep sigh.

For some strange reason he comes and sits next to you, not close enough to be touching but you can feel his heat radiate onto you, smell his deodorant.

'What do you want Brendan? Why are you even here?!'

You slap your palm against your knee, a way of exerting your frustration rather than hitting him, although you desperately want to, want to punch out any sort of smugness that you know isn't there but you want to do it for your own peace of mind.

'Why are you crying?'

He asks, his voice soft and genuinely concerned, something you didn't expect. You don't have the energy to tell him to piss off, if anything, now that he knows, you want to pour your heart out to him. You feel slightly better now that someone else knows, maybe not as good as you could feel because that person is Brendan Brady but never the less.

'The baggage I guess'

You succumb to your feelings, your desperate need to talk to someone, anyone. He lets out a small _hmmm_, and he isn't trying to force you to carry on. Now he decides to leave you be, let _you_ make the choices.

'When I went in to see him, he sat me down and broke it to me gently. Asked about my dad and what I knew so I told him, said that he was in the army and went out to war when I was younger. One day he left and never came back'

You replay what happened in that office inside your head, every sound, every movement, every feeling.

'He told me that when I was born, him and my dad were best friends, showed me a picture and everything. Then my dad went and fought in the war. I asked my mum where he was but she never answered me. Sir told me that my dad died shortly after he arrived, a grenade was thrown at them apparently and my dad ran with it, ran away from the troop.'

You hadn't realized that you were getting emotional again. Not until Brendan put an arm around you and shuffled slightly closer, whispered _Hey it's okay _in your ear and leaned his head against yours.

'My mum said he was still out there and he'd be home soon, then she went off the rails, got with Terry and he beat me up, every single day and I would ask her... _why isn't daddy here?_ But she just laughed at me. Laughed in my face. Thank fuck I moved out of there eh?'

You laugh to yourself and think what a relief that was. Now you live with your best friends, people you grew up with, all of them older than you but you see them as brothers and they've done things for you that you can never thank them enough for.

'I'm sorry'

Brendan whispers, rubs his thumb against your shoulder and gives you a little shake.

'It's okay. Kinda glad I told someone really.'

You chuckle, wipe away any stray tears that still lurk in your eyes.

'You've got people to look after you now, and I'm sure Pricey ain't that bad. To you anyway. He hates me'

He untangles his arm from around your shoulders when he realizes that you're calming down, you can tell he was slightly uncomfortable but now you feel at a loss. His warmth seemed to settle you and his touch made your heart race, you want nothing more than to hug him again, to feel safe and secure.

'Thank you for listening to me'

You say, finally look at him and smile, and he smiles back, nods and shoves you slightly to try and humour you.

'Brendan?'

You ask after a momentary silence.

'Yeah?'

'There's a party at mine tonight. My mate Danny got engaged, Cheryl's coming and I wondered if you wanted to come too?'

Brendan looks at you strangely for a split second, as if he can't believe you've actually asked him to go somewhere, as if it's something abnormal to him, but then he cracks a beaming smile, and it makes your stomach leap into your throat.

'Cheryl never told me'

'I told her not to'

You reply and then his face falls, hurt almost that you made her keep something from him, but he doesn't look angry, he looks like he understands, like his behaviour towards you means he deserves this secrecy, this rejection.

'Why?'

He enquires, seems like he needs to hear it as a way of punishing himself for making you spill your heart out, for being such a prick, for hitting you.

'Coz you were being a cock and I didn't want you there'

You say it harshly, intentional to hurt his feelings. You grab the opportunity to be a dick to him as a way of satisfying yourself.

'But... I guess you're alright really'

He lifts his head from his momentary sulk and smiles again, lets out a small, cute giggle. You feel a strange buzz in your chest because you're the one who has made him smile, a rarity in your opinion. He always has a face like a slapped arse, yet _you_ have somehow changed that.

'Thanks I guess. I'd love to go'

He suddenly goes all shy and embarrassed, a side to him that you've never seen. His cheeks and ears flush red, he looks hot to touch, feverish and he adjusts his collar, yet he still wears his gleaming smile, not uncomfortable at all.

'Good'

You get to your feet, straighten yourself out and inhale deeply, rid of your previous emotion and replace it with a certain excitement. The incident that happened in your bedroom suddenly pops into your mind, the feel of his kiss and press of his body against yours still sends a thrill through you.

Brendan stares up at you, obviously thinking the same thing because his smile is gone but he doesn't say anything about it, doesn't address the elephant in the room. Instead he runs his hands through his hair and gets to his feet, lightly touches your face and leaves without another word.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

Steven's request has excited you, got your blood flowing in anticipation. What you _think _might happen is completely different to what you _want_ to happen. You think that things will go _okay_ between you two, that he'll be with his friends for most of the night and you'll be shipped off in a corner on your own because you don't know anyone else going. Steven's friends are Cheryl's friends and she'll probably wonder off with her 'girls'.

What you want to happen is another story. You want him to drag you to his room and throw you onto his bed, the place where you shared your first kiss, where your feelings started to deepen and you want him to kiss you, tongue every part of your body.

The thought alone sends electric through your veins, straight to your dick and you shudder when it twitches in your trousers. The last thing you want to do is cum when you've just changed into your best clean clothes.

You check yourself over in the mirror, debate on whether to keep your top buttons done up but you decide against it, decide to show a bit of your chest, secretly because you know Steven will love it but you're not going to admit that to yourself.

You've gone for a run, had a shower and a shave, picked your best clothes and smothered yourself in aftershave, not so much that it's overpowering, but enough for it to be noticeable. You're in _the mood_ tonight, in the mood for one lad in particular yet you're more conflicted than ever.

Usually you'd just go out and shag a drunk and willing bloke with your hood up so he couldn't see your face. The next minute you'd bin him and go home. Your logic makes sense; there's no baggage, no one getting attached, yet it's you who's getting a strange attachment to Steven and god you want him so badly, want him more than you have ever wanted anyone in your life.

You're scared. Scared of the possibilities, the scenario, the aftermath. Scared that if you get a bit drunk then you're likely to drag Steven to his room and shag his brains out. You're even more scared of what you'll do afterwards because you'll have no control over it.

There's two scenario's.

You'll either have to push him away and call it off, make him know that it's over and you just know that he'll push it, know he'll get upset and you'll have to take drastic measures. The thought alone makes you shiver, makes you sick because you promised yourself that you'd never hurt him again.

The other scenario is that you... be with him. That scares you the most.

It's not only Seamus that's your kryptonite. It's Steven as well now.

'Ooooo. Where are you going?'

Cheryl's voice comes from behind you and you turn to see her in the shortest dress she owns, her hair long and curly down her shoulders, boobs pushed up to her chin.

'Jesus Chez. You want to look even more like a prostitute?!'

You ask, walk over to her and try to yank her dress down yet she squeals and slaps your wrists.

'Shut up Bren. I look good!'

She straightens herself out and flicks her hair like a sassy bitch.

'Why are you looking all handsome anyway?'

She asks as she shoves you out of the way of your mirror and starts adjusting her make-up, mouth wide open while she puts on more mascara.

'Going to the party. Steven invited me earlier'

She comes to a halt with her make-up appliance and turns, a smirk on her face, her lips plastered in bright red lipstick.

'What?'

'Nothing. Nothing'

She's smug with that smile on her face as she wonders off out of your room, snapping her fingers indicating for you to hurry up.

* * *

You eventually reach Steven's house, Cheryl totting in front of you in her high heels, her arms linked with her friends as you trudge behind, hands in your pockets and attempting to plan the night ahead.

Do you drink?

Yes. You need to relax for a night, be thankful that you're away from your dad.

Do you follow Cheryl around? Or Steven because they are the only people you know?

No. You let them come to you. You've got to keep your cool. You can easily leave if you're on your own for the night.

When you reach the door, you shift awkwardly on your feet, listen to the pulsing of the music and screaming of wild teenagers. Steven opens the door, practically screams when he sets eyes on Cheryl and gives her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

When he lays his sight on you though, after Cheryl and her friends have shuffled inside, he traces every inch of your body, is practically stumped for words. He catches sight of your chest and you smirk slightly because that is what you wanted.

'Brendan... you look... good. I'm glad you made it.'

You pull your eyebrows together in a frown, try to be mean to keep him keen, but then he moves forward into the light of the porch and your breath gets caught in your throat.

He's fucking beautiful.

Tight jeans that grip his legs perfectly, hold on tight to that peachy ass, his denim buttoned shirt and perfectly styled hair is a completely different look to his school uniform. There's an element of class, it's manly and sexy and you just want to drag him into a bush and fuck him. You control the erection that's forming in your trousers, relax every muscle in your body, otherwise you'll be sporting a semi all night.

'So do you'

Is all you can say. It's out before you can stop yourself. You're sure that you see him blush and it's evident that he's started drinking already because when he steps forward, he nearly trips over his feet. Clumsy thing.

'Come in.'

He takes hold of your wrist and pivots on one foot, drags you into his house and leads you into the living room where a crowd are gathered around a bloke in particular which you assume is Danny, the main host of this party. Steven drags you through the crowd, his skinny and lean body, able to weave in and out of people.

'Danny. Oi! This is Brendan. Cheryl's brother'

A tall man, roughly in his mid-twenties, black hair and buff physique turns and glares at you, flicks his gaze between you and Steven.

'Nice to meet you'

He takes hold of your hand, shakes it a few times, his grip a little too tight for your liking, so hard that your knuckles crack and the ends of your fingers turn red.

'Umm... Congratulations'

When he finally lets go of your hand, you shake it quickly to get the circulation back into your fingers, and then suddenly Steven is dragging you somewhere else.

'What do you want to drink? I got whiskey, scotch, beer?'

He's rattling through the bottles on the kitchen counter, pulling the odd one out and showing it to you all by means of temptation.

'Sorry about Danny. He's not over you smacking me in the face. He's a little protective.'

The bitterness of his statement hits you like a hammer between the eyes. You regret doing that, and you hate how Steven hasn't forgotten about it, but you know he has a valid reason to hold that against you, as does Danny and his other housemates.

'Um... I'll have a beer'

He throws one in your direction and your nerves are beginning to get to you, so you practically down the bottle and lunge for another, pop the cap off and gulp it down.

The way Danny looked at you, how he crushed your hand with his vice like grip. He looked like he wanted to kick your head in and you need to relax.

* * *

Within the hour, Steven is introducing you to random people, the names of whom you forget in minutes but he's sticking around with you, not once leaving your side unless he's going to get another drink.

The alcohol starts to get to your head quite quickly, partly because you are an idiot and haven't eaten for a couple of hours and partly because you're binge drinking, laughing and joking with randomers and having to lean against Steven every so often to keep your balance, even though he is just as wobbly as you, so it's more like counter balancing.

Two hours in and you're pissed off your face. You can see two of everyone, your vision blurry and your head is fuzzy, dizzy and cloudy yet you continue to drink because Steven tells you to, continues to shove whiskey shots in your face and drink to toasts, linking his arm around yours and downing them in one, his face scrunching up in disgust but then he giggles every time. The whiskey isn't burning your throat anymore, it's adjusted to the strength and intensity of the beverage.

'Brendan... come wiv me'

Steven slurs and he takes hold of your wrist, drags you into the kitchen and pours another shot into your empty glass.

'Steven... I... I can't do anymore'

You lean against the counter as your head begins to spin out of control and your stomach churns, in dire need for something other than alcohol.

'Come on. One more'

He hands you the glass, raises his eyebrows as if to challenge you and you take it, down it in one and then cough afterwards. The next thing you know, you're raiding the cupboards for something to eat and you grab hold of a loaf of bread, shove the crust into your mouth because you need to sober up, even if it's just a little bit. You need food in your belly to absorb some of your consumption, you can see the bitch of the hangover that you'll have in the morning.

Steven's joining you then, eating a piece of bread and shoving a glass of water in your face, evidently sensible enough to realize that you haven't eaten and haven't hydrated yourself.

'Thanks'

'S-okay'

He smiles then, an alcohol induced one but it's a smile and you want to lick every single one of those gorgeous teeth. The look you share then is deep, personal, private, intimate and without even realizing, you're moving closer to him, breathing hot and heavy and drunken.

It's just you in this house now, no one else exists apart from you and Steven. He stares up at you when you're close, when you're touching. He's waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to kiss him and he knows you want it. _You_ know you want it.

'I...I'm...'

You stutter but he places a single finger over your lips and whispers _Shhh. You don't have to say anything _and then you're following him, to his bedroom, pushing and shoving people out of your way and having to witness a couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat and practically dry humping on the stairs in a spun out, high mess.

When you're at the top of the stairs and walking down the empty hallway, Steven stops and turns to face you, his eyes bright and shining, glazed with what appears to be lust and anticipation.

Your reactions are so slow that you almost walk into him, the alcohol has evidently had a huge affect on you, but your feelings haven't changed at all. You're itching all over, desperate for his body to be against yours, rubbing and creating friction.

The next thing you know, you have him against the wall, hands either side of his head but you're too scared to make the first move because the aftermath keeps running through your head, of how you might have to hurt him to keep him away from you, or how you'll be too weak to continue suppressing how you feel, yet your dads face flashes into your head, haunts you, and his voice...

_Don't do it. I don't want a faggot of a son, a dirty, filthy queer. You won't be part of this family._

You're shaking, battling with yourself, a war being carried out between your head and your heart, one of them will have to lose and there'll be consequences either way.

'Do you... do you wanna...'

He asks, slurs, equally as confused as you are but he hasn't moved, hasn't pushed you away because he is still hanging onto that little bit of hope.

'Believe me... I want to'

Again, it's out before you can stop yourself but alcohol does this to you, makes you spill your heart out, every feeling and every thought simply handed over on a plate.

'So what's stopping you then?'

Those coral blue eyes, so deep like pools of Hawaiian ocean. When you stare into them, you feel like you're floating, completely weightless.

It takes you a little more time to decide what you want, to realise that for the time being, your dad can go and fuck himself because for once in your life, you are going to take something you want, take something that belongs to you.

'Fuck it'

You curl a hand behind his head, tangle your fingers into his hair and tip your head, lean in slowly and plant your wet lips against his, open your mouth for his insistent tongue, lick against it and explore every inch of his mouth, the taste of his and your alcohol mixing together and fuck... you're completely lost.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you continue to deeply kiss him, continue to rub your tongue against his, his breath light against your face. You let out a deep grumble against him, push and grind your body against him, dig him further into the wall and he runs a hand up your chest, presses his warm palm against your face and the other circulates your waist.

'Fuck. Yes'

You can't get enough of his sweet, wet, warm mouth and you're shoving your tongue in as far as possible, you want to swallow him down, every part of him.

He backs you against the opposite side of the hallway, your back crashing against it and your lips parting with a small groan and you're frantically running your hands all over each other, tugging and pulling at clothes and grinding hips.

Steven reaches behind him, doesn't take his lips away from yours, and he opens his bedroom door, pulls you inside and throws you off him, shoves you halfway across the room. Your alcohol induced brain causes you to stumble and fall onto his bed. You watch as he locks the door and turns, his eyes dark and dilated with lust, body relaxed and buoyant, still perfectly highlighted by his clothes.

He tiptoes to the edge of the bed, admires you, and you admire him, his golden perfection standing before you and you practically dribble when he lifts his shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor, his skinny, honey coloured body stretching, ribs jutting out underneath his taught, toned muscle.

'Wow. You're beautiful Steven. So beautiful'

You whisper under your large intake of breath, your windpipe and chest beginning to constrict.

He continues to stand, his breathing, light and shallow which juxtaposes yours and you can't help but get onto your knees, shuffle over, get so close that you can feel him against you, feel his heat. Your palms become sweaty; he's making you nervous, making you sexually excited like you've never felt before.

You analyse every inch of his body, his golden abs and pink nipples. You reach up a hand, press it lightly against the bottom of his stomach and slide it up his silky smooth body, trace your fingers over every rib and his breath hitches at your touch.

'Do you want me?'

He croaks, his hand pressing against the top of yours, preventing you from continuing to stroke him.

'Yes'

You reply, your other hand tugging at his belt to bring him closer so he's pressed against you, his chin against your forehead and your lips trace his collar bones.

'Tell me. Tell me you want me'

He whispers, his tone smooth and sensual like pure silk, soft and fingers comb through your hair, push your head into his body and you don't refrain from kissing and licking the dip of his throat, the taste of his skin divine on your tongue and you mumble against his delicious, hairless chest.

'I want you Steven. I want to make you _feel_ like a man, make you feel good.'

You notice that you're both slurring but the truth is coming out now, and you want him to know how much you want him. The bulge in his trousers tells you that he feels the same, and the sexual tension is all too much, the chemistry, the evident attraction, it sends you wild, tips you over the edge and you pull him on top of you, his light body surrounding and engulfing you.

'Make me feel good Brendan'

**Don't forget to review or DM me my sweeties. I love to know what you're thinking and whether things are going your way. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed and favourited. It means the world!**

**Alys x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Brendan's P.O.V**

Steven leans down to kiss you again, takes your face in his warm hand and traces his fingertips down your neck, follows the tendons until his palm is inside your shirt, nails scraping against the centre of your chest and you let out a low grumble into his mouth. A boy's touch has never done this to you, never made your body feel so weak and powerless, melted like chocolate and you press him into your body, lift your hips minutely to rub your groin against his and create a delicious friction.

He begins kissing your neck, flicking his tongue out to lick the pulse there and sink his teeth into your feverish flesh and you can't help but let him walk all over you. You usually have the control, the power, are in need of it but this boy has turned you into nothing, has such a powerful hold over you that you're likely to succumb to his every request.

His drunken state leaves him planting sloppy, wet kisses over every inch of your face. Your forehead, nose, eyelids and cheeks, yet you're powerless to stop it, and in all honesty, you don't want to stop it. It makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel attractive... loved.

You treasure this moment in which someone is taking their time to savour you, explore you, until Steven starts to unbutton your shirt, all fingers and thumbs mind, but he is still trying to peel your clothes off.

'No.'

You whisper against his hair as he continues to lick your skin, yet he carries on, manages to undo two more buttons, but your mind is so blurry and spaced out, so intoxicated that you're not strong enough to stop him.

'Steven... stop.'

But he ignores you again, just kisses you all over, turns you into a melted mess, however you somehow manage to summon the energy to grab his wrists, not hard as such but enough to put an end to his so called mission to get you shirtless. Every button that became undone made your scarred back tingle even more, so much so that it became painful, like a constant stabbing. But it's over now, and Steven is staring up at you, bewildered.

'Don't ever take my shirt off.'

You growl, dangerous and venomous but he isn't scared, he just smiles, his eyes dark and enriched with lust. His kiss turns you back into melted butter, and you flip him over onto his back, scramble with your own buttons to do them back up and then lick his body, every inch, tease and pinch his nipples with your teeth, Steven writhing underneath you and whimpering in pleasure.

As you get closer and closer to his trousers, the more he wriggles and you're uncertain as to whether you should continue, a small part of your brain, the part that isn't obscured by your large intake of alcohol tells you to stop.

'You okay?'

You ask huskily, your breath getting caught in your windpipe at the beautiful sight above you, golden and hot and breathless.

'Yeah. I've never felt this good before.'

He says as he runs his fingers through your hair, strokes your cheek with his thumb and rubs your bottom lip tenderly, gawps at them and licks his own. You can't resist taking hold of his thumb between your teeth and nibbling lightly, sucking on the end as a mini demonstration of what you're about to do to him and it widens his eyes, causes his dick to twitch in his trousers up against your chest.

'You want it?'

You say in a deep and seducing tone when you finally release his thumb and he nods like an excited puppy, has to bite on his lip to contain himself, refrain from pushing your head into his crotch.

'Okay.'

His hard on presses against your chin when you make your way further down, solid as a rock and desperate for release. The boy himself is a writhing, nervous wreck, whimpering above you as you grope him, rubbing and grabbing and stroking.

'Please.'

He wines, takes hold of your hand, fumbles to get a proper grip and tries to slip it into his trousers, struggles because his sight is obviously as blurred as yours and he can't see. He blinks a couple of times, tries to focus, but gives up and lets his head drop back onto the pillow when you become independent again, when you slowly unzip his trousers. You start pulling them down and he lifts his hips to aid you, and as soon as his dick is about greet you, there's a knock at the door and it startles the both of you, makes your heart jump into your throat.

'Ste?'

A deep voice works its way through the wooden door and Steven's eyes widen.

'Shit. It's Danny! Go answer it!'

He hisses as he pulls his trousers back up to where they were and shoves you backwards with his foot.

'What?! I can't answer it!'

'You have to!'

He pulls the duvet out from underneath him and hides under it, like it's his shield. He's a fucking child but if you don't answer the door quickly, then things are bound to look suspicious. You're fighting a losing battle and you slump your head in defeat.

'Fuck sake!'

You climb off the bed, try to fathom what you're going to say before coming face to face with Danny, wipe the heated sweat from your brow and unlock the door.

Danny is surprised to see you in there. His eyes widen, eyebrows raise and his lips part.

'Where's Ste?'

He asks, tries to look inside but you've deliberately kept the gap in the door quite small, because if he sees what's been going on, then you think you'll get kicked in the ass.

'He's...asleep.'

You croak, truly awful at hiding your lies, your body language not helping you at all here as you shuffle on your feet and lower your gaze.

'So why are _you_ in there then?'

He seems almost disgusted, looks you up and down, his sober persona completely destroying your drunken one as he interrogates you, makes you suddenly hot and feverish again as you suffer from his scrutiny.

'We came up here to chat... too noisy downstairs... and then he fell asleep literally about a minute ago. I was just about to leave.'

His nose wrinkles when he smells the alcohol on your breath, takes a minute step back and glares at you.

'No. You ain't going anywhere. You can crash here for the night. Cheryl's caught a lift home and I've just kicked everyone out. Unless you want to walk coz I ain't dropping you off.'

He rubs his lip, and you think you've heard him wrong. He's taken an evident disliking to you, yet he's letting you stay in his house, in the same room as Steven you presume. There is no way you're walking home because it's something stupid like 1am and you know there are some dodgy people out at this time, and in a way, you want to take advantage of the fact that you'll have a night away from your dad and you'll be spending it with Steven, despite the fact that he's asleep, because the boy makes you feel strangely safe and comfortable, his presence makes you feel like you're squeezing on a stress ball and letting out every single bit of anger.

'Oh... Okay. Thanks. I'll just crash here.'

You say, the silence that follows being incredibly awkward.

'Right well... I'll leave you to... do whatever.'

He's about to leave, pivots half way on one foot but then stops before starting, turns to look at you again for a final time, his body slightly closer to you now, 2/3 inches taller, the smell of mint filling your nostrils from where you assume he's just brushed his teeth.

'Oh and by the way... If I ever find out that you've hurt Ste again, I will hunt you down, and I will beat the shit out of you. That clear?'

He raises his eyebrows, his eyes practically turning red, maybe it's just the booze but you're sure it's real and his voice is deep, husky, and it fucking scares you, reminds you slightly of your dad when he brings up _your little secret_.

'Yeah. Crystal.'

You plaster on a fake smile, tear your eyes away from his intimidating gaze, breathe a sigh of relief when he makes his way down to the end of the hall.

'Shit.'

That scared you. Danny is not a small fella. He's large, strong, looks like he could knock over a tree with a punch, but you understand why he was defending Steven. You expected nothing less from his housemates, although you thought that he wouldn't have told anyone. He seems the sort that'd bottle things up. Or maybe that's wishful thinking. Maybe you're the only one who does that.

You shut the door again, lock it and turn back to the bed, see that Steven is still underneath his bedding, a gigantic bulge sticking up and you giggle to yourself because the mushy, sentimental side of you finds that cute.

'Where were we?'

You growl, climb onto the end of the bed and make your way up, pull back the duvet and your shoulders slump when you realize that Steven is actually asleep, lightly snoring and twitching every so often, eyes flickering and chest rising and falling in a soft, rhythmic pattern.

'For fuck sake.'

This is a definite mood kill, your cock turns flaccid and your heart sinks because you and him were so close. You were moments away from making the boy scream, making him feel so goddamn good. You wanted to get lost, float away to the stars while you had hot and fiery sex with the boy, while he made you feel good. You wanted to fall unconscious to his delectable, pleasurable screams, his discrete whimpers. You wanted to drown in the aftermath with him, have him wrapped in your arms, sweaty and hot and sticky, have him kissing your chest while you grazed your fingertips over his honey like shoulders.

You argue against climbing into bed with him. Instead you steal one of his pillows, throw it on the floor and make that your bed for the night. Just before you turn off the bedside lamp, you take a moment to watch him while he sleeps, admire his tranquil, narcotised beauty. You take the opportunity to bend down and kiss his hot forehead and parted lips, steal a final kiss for the night because you don't know if you'll ever get another one, and to also make a memory; just in case this is the start of something beautiful.

You lie on the floor, sink your head into the pillow and try to relax against the hard surface underneath you, yet the cool winter evening chills you to the bone. You hadn't realised how cold it was when you were completely off your face and about to give Steven the blow job of a life time. But now that has gone, now that hot fire has been drowned, you're freezing cold, shivering in fact. You try to wrap your shirt around you tighter, curl up into a ball to preserve your heat but it doesn't work. Sleep isn't possible when you're this cold. You try to close your eyes and let insomnia take you, but your body won't allow it.

* * *

You don't know how long you've been lying here, shivering, but you've just stared out of the window, a part of the room glistening in the moonlight, the stars flickering like diamonds and the trees softly swaying in the bitter, cold wind. You try to imagine yourself in a hot place, try to create warmth psychologically, but again your murky brain fails you.

'Brendan? That you lying on the floor?'

Steven's sleepy voice breaks the silence, makes you jump out of your skin because everything was so deeply quiet.

'Yeah. Danny said I could crash here.'

You turn over, see Steven's head raised from the pillow as your eyes have adjusted to the darkness. You try to stop yourself from shivering, allow your muscles to relax but it's gotten to the point where it's pure reflexes.

'Come up here you muppet.'

The boy is still slurring and you think he is going to have a bitch of a hangover in the morning. You see that he's lifted some of the duvet up and shifted back slightly, still propped up on his elbow.

'Get into bed. You gotta be freezing your moobs off.'

He says and you jump at the opportunity, rush to your feet and slip in next to him, the heat of where his body previously was in the bed, warming your skin and bones, right to the marrow and you let out a low grumble in satisfaction.

'Fuuuuckkk.'

It feels so good, being surrounded by this heat and having Steven next to you, having a body that isn't Seamus near you. Your skin doesn't crawl, doesn't itch with disgust. You don't feel wrong, or ugly, or disgusting, or any of the things Seamus said. You feel... normal.

'Night Brendan.'

Steven says as he curls up next to you, not touching but still close and it makes you feel secure, comfortable.

'Night. I don't have moobs you cheeky fuck.'

He chuckles lightly and falls back to sleep without another word.

You allow the heat to sink through your skin and warm your blood, let yourself drift to sleep without feeling any fear that your dad will come and get you, come and make you feel even dirtier. This feeling of safety is beautiful and your slumber comes easily because the next time you awake, it's not because of a nightmare. It's because you feel something tickling your nose and you realise that Steven's head is resting on your chest, his arm wrapped firmly around you, your shirt bunched up in his fists.

You argue about pushing the boy off, purely to satisfy the itch, the pissed off feeling of him falling asleep on you earlier, but you don't. Instead you stroke down his back and pull him further into you, plant a small kiss on his head and allow yourself to fall unconscious again.

* * *

**Ste's P.O.V**

Your head is thumping, banging consistently like a drum and your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your skull because of the pressure of your headache. You're conscious, the morning light blinding you through your still open curtains.

'Fuck.'

You grumble as you slowly sit up, press a palm to your head and try to massage your temples with your index fingers. You look about your room, notice that it's exactly as you left it yesterday morning. You're satisfied that no one from the party came in here last night, no one shagged on your bed or against your drawers. Everything is still firmly in place and intact. What you spot next though makes you feel like you're going to be sick. You're not sure if it'll be in a good way or a bad way.

Brendan is lying next to you, looking slightly paler than normal, fully clothed and sleeping, splayed out in a slightly awkward position.

You frantically try to replay what happened last night but you can't fucking remember any of it. You remember answering the door to him and Cheryl, then you got even more drunk. The last thing you remember is eating bread or something.

You try to think, try to break through that obscured haze, the white cloud. Did anything happen between you two? Did you sleep with him?!

'Oh God.'

Your small, choked cry makes Brendan stir, makes him wake up and your heart is hammering as well as your head. You hope to god that he can provide answers because you don't want to be left in the dark, don't want to think that you lost your virginity to _him_.

'Shittin hell. My head is banging.'

Brendan groans as he begins sitting up. You can feel his gaze on you but you can't bring yourself to look in case there are any marks on him, marks of sexual interaction.

'Did... did anything happen...did me and you...'

You can't construct a sentence, can't fathom what to say because you're scared as hell of the answer. The last person you wanted to fuck was Brendan because he said he was straight and you'll just be a notch on his bedpost. You wanted your first time to be special, wanted to lose your purity to someone who is worthy of owning it.

'No. We didn't.'

He replies, puts you out of your misery and you breathe a sigh of relief, smile because you still have a little bit of dignity, haven't lost your virginity to a drunken one night stand.

'We... we were about to...'

Brendan interrupts your joy fest, makes your face fall. Were you actually considering it? Were you willing to take a chance on him? Willing to step into the unknown in the hope that he liked you back and felt attracted to you?

'What happened?'

You force yourself to look into his eyes, dark and bloodshot from his hangover, but you need to know, need to be told how far you had gotten.

'Um... You took your shirt off, we kissed a bit and I was about to... about to...'

He cuts off midsentence, overwhelmed with what seems to be embarrassment. Or maybe it's his Brady pride, his constant denial of who he is.

'About to what?'

You push further, need to hear him say the words because this is his doing as much as it is yours, he was just as willing as you were.

'I was about to... give you head.'

Your ears seem to block involuntarily as your memories come flooding back. You remember being flat on your back, Brendan licking down your stomach and touching you in a way that made your toes curl and hips jolt. You remember him undoing your trousers, staring up into your eyes, about to _make you feel good._

'Then Danny was at the door, I remember.'

'Yeah. Then you fell asleep.'

You both sit there awkwardly, avoid eye contact at all costs, allow the silence to fill the room as a million questions invade your mind, questions you're desperate to ask but you can't bring yourself to do it. You need forget what you're feeling, what you want to happen because you're going to get hurt, are too used to wearing your heart on your sleeve and being taken advantage of.

'Umm. I'm gunna... Get breakfast or something...'

You go to hop out of bed but Brendan stops you, curls his fingers around your wrist and pulls you back down.

'We need to talk about this.'

He huffs, the sensible and logical side of him talking for once, but you assumed that he wouldn't want to because he is always going to be in denial and you don't want to put up with that shit. You've got better things to be doing, your A-levels, getting to know your Godfather, working to help pay for the house with your friends instead of becoming dependent on them.

'There's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened so let's just forget it okay?'

You say, try to wriggle your way out of his grip. It's a lot softer than usual, probably because the alcohol has absorbed all of his energy, much like it has with you but his grip is still locked.

'I don't want to forget it.'

He says, is in total regret but he means it. There's truth in his eyes, something you've never seen before, an honesty, sincerity, like he has finally given in to what he feels. But he's unpredictable, you don't know whether he's here or there and you don't want to be kept on your toes. You want to know where you stand.

'So what do you want?'

You look desperately into his eyes, plea him to feel the way you do, plea him to want you like you want him, but he shakes his head, looks away and lets go. You feel like you were hanging off the edge of a cliff, and the branch that you were holding onto has finally snapped. You feel like you're falling, completely broken.

'I dunno... I just know that...'

He doesn't finish, doesn't have the balls and that tells you everything you need to know, tells you exactly where you stand.

'This isn't what you want.'

You mumble, a sulk beginning to take over because you thought there was something there, something so undecipherable between you, something amazing but you were wrong. You're always wrong.

You hop off the bed and stretch, crack your stiff back and walk to the door before turning back.

'Danny has a fry up on the go. It'll help with the hangover.'

And then you leave the room, hoping Brendan will follow. You can't let things escalate, can't put yourself on the end of that fishing line and act as bait, being cast away and drawn in whenever Brendan feels like it.

When you get to the kitchen, you find Danny cooking sausages and bacon, your other housemate sitting around the table, attending to their mugs of strong coffee, trying to put an end to their hangovers.

'Hey buddy. Take a seat. It'll be done in a minute.'

Danny says, turning to smile at you, his face falling however when you feel Brendan's presence approach behind you.

'You staying for breakfast Brendan?'

He says, his voice more monotone than before. You know that Danny hates Brendan, after what he did to you, as do your other housemates and they all stare him down like a piece of meat. You know that they're only looking out for you, as they always have done since you were 5 years old. They'd go around beating people up, the bullies who upset you and that hasn't changed, despite the fact that you're 12 years older now. You'll still be the little one in their eyes.

'If that's cool with you.'

Brendan mumbles, doesn't make a move to shift past you, instead he sticks by your side like a magnet. When you move, he moves.

You walk over to the table, slap Jamie across the head because he is drinking out of your mug, and you sit down next to him in your usual spot. Brendan simply stands beside you, weary of all the beady eyes upon him.

'Umm... Brendan this is Jamie. Him and Danny are twins. That's Kyle and Liam'

You pinpoint who is who, all of which simply nod rather than greet. The atmosphere is awkward, silent, nothing but the sound of spitting coming from the bacon cooking in the frying pan to break the silence and the odd slurping of coffee.

'Here you go lads.'

Danny comes over and dishes everything up, slaps down some beans and piles on the sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns and fried bread. It smells good and all of you tuck in like pigs who haven't been fed.

'Sit in my seat Brendan. I'm gunna take breakfast up to Sarah and eat mine up there too. I'll be a married man soon. Better get used to this slavery'

Everyone chuckles, including yourself. You even think you hear a small grumble come from Brendan as he sits opposite you awkwardly, flicks his eyes in your direction and catches your gaze.

You all eat in silence, the tension beginning to build as Brendan shifts awkwardly under the intimidating gaze from your housemates and you even feel the need to defend him, protect him from their strange satisfaction of making him feel uncomfortable and belittled.

'Guys...'

They all look at you in unison, mouth half open with food poking out, bean sauce about to dribble down Kyle's chin.

'What?'

Liam asks, annoyed that you've interrupted his patronizing session. You consider what to say, but a sick part of you enjoys this, enjoys how someone is being pinpointed for their wrong doings and being humiliated. It's something you never really grew up with. Of course you always had these guys, but you never got it from your parents, that protection element, protection of their property. Well, you never were Terry's flesh and blood. He was no father to you.

'Right. I'm gunna have a fag.'

Jamie announces, scraping his chair back, gaining a groan from everyone at the density of the noise, piercing their eardrums and emphasising the banging of headaches.

'I'll come with you.'

You say, delicately placing your chair back and following him outside. He hands you a cigarette and takes one for himself, places it between his teeth and pulls out a zippo, flicks open a flame and lights the tobacco, inhales deeply, holds his breath, lets the toxins fill his lungs and allows the smoke to snake out of his parted lips.

'Here.'

You take the zippo and do the same, smoke outside the front door in the bitter winter morning, frost layering the cars down the street and icing up the roads, birds soaring from tree to tree, knocking crisp leaves to the ground.

'So that Brendan kid... Why is he here?'

Jamie asks, takes another drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke in a thin stream above his head.

'He got pissed didn't he. Just crashed the night.'

You reply, mirror his actions and feel the nicotine craving beginning to satisfy. You don't want to go into detail of what happened, the fact that you nearly slept with him, yet he has let you down again, hurt you, broken you. You want to save him from being a victim of more humiliation.

'Ste... he punched you in the nose. Who the fuck does he think he is? Waltzing in here like he owns the place. Why was he even here last night?'

He's going off on one, off on a tangent, having to express and release every internal piece of anger because he's like this. Never keeps things bottled up. He says it how it is and that's one thing you love about him.

He's brave.

'I invited him. Don't ask why. He said sorry and he helped me when I fainted remember? So we're mates now. Sort of.'

You don't want him to presume that you have a full blown friendship, because it's far from that. As much as you hate it, you can't deny that you don't want a friendship. You want more. He's dangerous, unpredictable, sexy, dark, all of the things that you don't like, imperfections, but here, Brendan's imperfections make him obscenely perfect.

'Jesus Christ. Well... just so you know, none of us are gunna forgive him for what he did to you. Nobody touches our boy without getting an earful of shit'

You chuckle at how protective he is, appreciate the sentiment and how much he actually cares about you, they all do.

You hear a shuffle from behind you, turn to see Brendan leaning against the door frame, a fake smile plastered across his face.

'I'll leave you too it.'

Jamie says, flicks his fag end into the ash tray and shoves past Brendan, deliberately clashes their shoulders together.

'I'm sorry about him... well about all of them. They're a bit protective'

'I can see that.'

He shuffles outside and stands next to you while you finish your fag, rocks back and forth on his heels, thinking what to say presumably. There's tension between you, not just confrontational but sexual as well and you don't know whether you'll be able to contain it, hence the reason you're trying to put yourself off of him, because he's jail bait, a trap designed to lure you in.

'About last night...'

No.

'Forget it okay? It was nothing.'

'No Steven. I don't _want_ it to be nothing.'

He grabs you then, pins you against the front door and shakes you, not rough at all but he wants to make that imperative, wants to get it into your head but you will forever be in denial because this can't happen. You'll be on the road to heaven and hell at the same time, floating on water then sinking.

'Please just...'

He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes pleading you for help. What are you supposed to do?!

Then he does something unexpected.

He leans in.

Slowly.

Twists his head.

Presses his lips against yours and kisses you, mouth parted and flickering tongue, deep and raw and real and you can't take it, can't fathom every emotion that's running through you right now but you have to give in. You relax against him, place a hand on his hip and draw his body into you, his soft lips dragging against yours, wet and hot and desperate and you swallow down his small, incoherent moans.

When he pulls away you're both breathless, your lips turning cold, slippery with his saliva and your bones are tingling, electric pulsing through your veins rather than blood.

'I...'

'Shhhh'

You bring a finger up to his lips and silence him, rub along the pink, soft skin for good measure, your own lips beginning to tingle.

'Don't say anything. Go.'

He smiles, knows what you mean, knows that you don't want him to ruin another heated moment because that one was perfect. He takes your face into his hands and plants a delicate and delicious final kiss on your lips, soft and sensual, a farewell.

'I'll see you later'

Without another word, or another glance, he's gone.

**Just another thank you to every single one of you who is continuing to support this fic. It means the world to me and I'd love to hear what you're thinking or what you want to happen. Your thoughts absolutely intrigue me so please don't hesitate to review or PM me. Thank you so much guys.**

**Alys xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning!- Events do turn quite dark in this chapter, yet it has significance to the rest of the story. It gets a little disturbing and tension will rise.**

**You have been warned!**

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You walk all the way home with your lips still tingling from that amazing, heated kiss, his morning scent still on your clothes and you can't help but pull a part of your t-shirt up to your nose and smell it, smell _him._ You hadn't intended things to be like that, but sometimes things just happen. You've come to accept that.

You didn't _want _to kiss him.

You _needed_ to.

Last night's events are to be forgotten because you were both drunk, and it would have been something you both regretted, Steven more so than you because you wanted it, felt the density and heaviness and want in your stomach. He couldn't even remember, which begs the question;

What does he actually feel?

You know what you're feeling, are still kicking yourself for feeling such things, one half of your brain completely infatuated with the boy, fascinated by him, yet the other is disgusted. Not just with him and his orientation but with yourself for wanting him. Each side is equally matched, sometimes one half manages to overpower the other at the most unexpected times and that's what you're scared of the most.

You scare yourself.

Scared of which side will prevail.

You don't want to hurt him, but then again you get a sick satisfaction out of seeing someone hurt, knowing you caused that pain, thinking that your dad would be proud of you, offloading your shit onto other people and not feeling sorry about it.

It's like having yourself and the devil on your shoulders. You want to be one way yet the devil is telling you to be the other, it almost possesses you. You have no control over your actions sometimes and it frightens you, more to the point, you're frightened of what it might to do Steven.

When you walk through the door, you're hit by a wave of heat, warming your frozen lips and cold skin. You see Cheryl in the kitchen, heaving her guts up into the sink, her dressing gown wrapped around her loosely.

'Come here'

You walk over to her and bunch her hair up behind her back to stop it from falling in front of her face while she vomits. It smells disgusting, has your own stomach churning but this is what big brothers are supposed to do. You rub her back lightly between her shoulder blades, cringe slightly when she is left gagging, seeming to have bought everything up.

'Bren go away. I don't want you seeing me like this'

She says, gives you a light shove but you refuse to budge.

'I ain't going anywhere. Come on'

You wrap an arm around her shoulders, lead her up the stairs to her room and tuck her into bed, fetch a bucket from outside in the back garden and leave it on her bedside table in case she needs it. You leave a pint of water next to her as well, stroke her forehead while she closes her lids on her bloodshot eyes, her skin as pale as the frost outside.

'Stay in bed okay? Just sleep and drink water. You'll be fine by tomorrow'

She nods lightly, mutters a small _Thank you_ and falls unconscious into a heavy sleep, something she obviously lacked last night. You close her blinds, give her forehead a kiss and leave her in her peaceful slumber.

You're thankful that you ate a load of bread yesterday and gulped down some water. You're thankful that you're not throwing up everywhere, probably because you have learnt from the other binge drinking sessions you have shared with Paddy.

You decide to have a shower, try and freshen up a bit seeing as you still feel sluggish and have a headache, allow the warm water to relax your tense muscles, brush your teeth to rid of the taste of whiskey, scrub your skin to rub off the odour of cigarettes, taking your time to massage your back as much as you can.

You wonder to your room with your towel wrapped low around your waist, your skin steaming from the temperature of the water, droplets dripping from your hair. The house is still silent, Cheryl's sleeping, yet you don't know the whereabouts of your father.

Probably waking up on a bench somewhere.

You drop the towel around your ankles, climb into some boxers and trousers and drench your back in Bio Oil, let the liquid slide down the contours and calm the slight burning and dry sensation. You rub it in as best as you can, look yourself in the mirror and you can't help thinking how different things would be if you didn't have these scars embedded onto your skin. You wouldn't be this disgrace, this ugly specimen of a so called human being.

'Where have you been all night boy?'

Seamus' gruff voice startles you, makes your whole body twitch and suddenly your skin is crawling, feels like spiders are running up and down your body.

'Cheryl not tell you?'

You ask, trying not to look at his reflection in the mirror, instead you grab a shirt and throw it over your head to cover yourself.

'If she told me, I wouldn't be asking would I?'

He always does this, makes you feel like an idiot, states the fucking obvious to make a fool out of you.

'I... I crashed at Steven's.'

You don't want to go into the details of _why?, what happened?, who said you could?_, because you'll have to follow one lie with another. Then you'll practically shoot yourself in the foot because your dad always gets down to the root in the end.

'Hm... You and him seem to be getting _close_.'

He says, strolls into your room like it's the most normal thing in the world, walks right over to you and stands, stares at you in the mirror and you bow your head, surrender to him automatically.

'We're just... friends. I had nowhere else to go'

You've started digging that hole, because your dad is going to start firing the questions, shoot the interrogatives and you practically kick yourself for your idiocy.

'Good. Wouldn't want anyone touching my boy now would we?'

He slaps a hand to your back and you feel sick, you know what's coming and you're powerless to stop it. You're turning back into that 8 year old boy, all of your strength, your height, your power has simply vanished.

'No.'

You mumble, begin to tremble as your dad's hand slides down your back, lower and lower. You flinch when he grabs you, when he throws you onto the bed, rips at your clothes and touches you.

You're crying, screaming for help but you can't get out the words. No one can hear you, you can't hear yourself. You only hear him and his grunts, his groans, his satisfied laughs as he takes your innocence again, as he pummels you, holds down your wrists and digs his nails into your hips.

You don't know what to do.

You physically can't summon the energy to push him off, to beat him, to show him that you're not going to put up with this, that you are your own person and he can't keep taking things from you.

He holds your wrists with one hand, the other thrown over your mouth to keep you quiet but you're too scared to scream, too scared of what he'll do to you. Although, nothing could be worse than this, having his breath in your face, his filthy hands all over you.

You close your eyes and let it happen, let him do what he want because this is all you'll ever be, his play thing. You don't mean anything to anyone, no one cares otherwise they would have known, would have found out by now. Cheryl, Steven, Paddy, none of them care.

When he's satisfied, when he's fed his sick hunger, he hops off of you, pulls up his trousers and says _Remember. Our little secret._

You've gotten to the point where you've been raped so many times that you don't bleed anymore. Instead you're just left crying for hours on end. Then you feel your stomach beginning to do somersaults, bile and acid rising into your mouth and you rush to the toilet, vomit for what feels like hours, your stomach muscles clenching violently, your head getting thrown forward as you heave, tears streaming down your face. You're a fucking mess and all you want to do is have _the boy_ next to you, arms around you, warm body next to yours and holding you while you cry into him.

You don't just want him anymore.

You need him.

* * *

**Ste's P.O.V**

You walk back into the house after you've finished your fag, lips still wet from Brendan's kiss, his warmth still on your clothes and you're smiling like an idiot.

You see Jamie, Kyle and Liam, all sat at the table, making stupid phatic talk and you know they were watching you, saw exactly what happened, heard every word exchanged.

'You guys are twats'

You say, slap Kyle across the head and sit next to him, sip the fresh cup of coffee that they've made for you.

'So when you said that you and Brendan were friends...'

Jamie says, sticks his tongue out of his mouth and licks his top row of teeth, signals a blow job type action by rubbing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows flicking up and down in a suggestive manor and it makes your skin turn hot as you reflect on that kiss, the heat of it.

'You never told us you had a bum boy!'

Liam exclaims, ruffling your hair into even more of a mess and downing the rest of his coffee before nudging you with his elbow, trying to get you to elaborate.

'He isn't my bum boy. I don't really know what's going on to be honest'

You admit, because you don't. One minute you're desperate for each other, he's all over you, telling you he wants you and the next you're screaming at each other. You want to kiss him, then you want to kill him.

'Hey buddy what's going down?'

Liam asks as he slings an arm around your neck, while the others lean in across the table, wanting to get an earful of the gossip.

'I just... I don't know. One minute we're okay, and he says he likes me, then the next, he's pushing me away and being a cock. I dunno what to do coz I like him and everything but... I dunno'

You're so clueless as to what you're feeling, but then again, your emotions have never been clearer in the heat of the moment. When you're arguing, you feel this pent up anger, this hatred that you've never felt before. But when you're kissing, you feel this raw, passionate, lust and it's uncontrollable.

'Do you _like_ like him?'

Jamie asks, puts a hand on your wrist as if to say _it's okay_, that being confused _is _okay. It's anything but! It's annoying, frustrating, heartbreaking not knowing what you want.

'Me and him... We've kissed...'

All of them gasp in unison, let out a simultaneous _Oh my god_.

'More than once...'

You say, scrunch up your eyes and hide your face in your hands because you're embarrassed by the looks they're giving you.

'You little dog! Have you shagged him?!'

'Shhh!'

You hiss at Kyle because if Danny hears, then he'll go mental. He's extremely protective over you, always has been since the accident that happened when you were a child. You don't think about it, try to avoid the thought at all costs because it pulls your strings, makes you upset.

'No we haven't... but... we were about to'

'Oh my god!'

Jamie howls, slaps his hand against his knee and looks at you with wide eyes, a smile plastered across his face because this is juicy stuff to him, to all of them.

'What happened?! Tell me everything!'

'Nothing. I don't really remember it but Brendan said that I took my shirt off... we kissed for a bit and he was about to suck me off'

You throw your arms up in front of your face so they can't see you, so you can swim in your humiliation and embarrassment.

'Oh... My... God...'

'Shut up okay? I'm sure he's gay coz, you wouldn't do that if you were straight, but he denies it all the time and I just think that I'm gunna get hurt if I go there. I dunno what to do'

You're truly conflicted and you need advice on this, that's what these lads are for. They calm themselves from the surprise and take you seriously now, their faces straight and positions rigid.

'You have to do what you think is right. Sometimes you just have to roll the dice and see what happens. If you like him, and you like him a lot, then you've got to take a chance, because that chance won't ever come back again. Did that sound as good as I think it did?'

Everyone, including yourself, nods because that's so right. How are you going to know unless you take a chance on him? He could be the love of your life and you wouldn't even know it because you're too busy dwelling on possibilities.

'Yeah... Yeah you're right. Thanks buddy'

* * *

The weekend ends far too quickly and it's back to your daily routine, back to meeting Cheryl Monday morning, who still looks like shit from the party, her face still pale and her eyes dark and heavy, although she says she's fine. _Just a headache babe_.

When you look about you see that Brendan isn't there, and you ask where he is, just out of pure curiosity and Cheryl says _He's already left_.

So that's how it is? Avoiding at all costs. This isn't going to happen, you're going to find Brendan at school and you're going to get answers whether he likes it or not. You know he feels something for you, his pupils blow when you look at each other, his skin gets hot and feverish. _You_ make him nervous.

When lunch comes around, you know where he'll be. At his usual lunch table and there he is, sitting on his own because Paddy isn't in today. Danielle said something about the chicken pox. You weren't really paying attention because your mind was focused on other things.

You get your lunch, exchange a smile with Mr Price and then head over to his table.

'Mind if I sit with you?'

You ask, expecting an answer but all you get is a grunt. He doesn't look up at you, keeps his head slumped between his shoulders as he picks at his nails.

You take a seat opposite him, notice how he hasn't got any food in front of him, which startles you because he usually brings enough food to feed a cavalry.

'You not got any lunch?'

You ask, make small talk so he doesn't feel uncomfortable being alone with you.

'Not hungry'

He grumbles, still doesn't look up at you, just continues to pick at his fingers and shuffle slightly in his seat as if your presence is making him itch with irritation.

'Do you want half of my baguette? I never finish it anyway'

'I said I'm not hungry!'

He spits, thumps his fists hard against the table and cracks his knuckles, his fists balled so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. Why is he in a pissy mood?! You're not going to have someone talk to you like that, take their shit out on you.

'No need to be a dick about it! I was trying to be nice!'

You tear a chunk out of your baguette fiercely; chomp it hard to stop yourself from sassing him even more.

'What, so you think just because we've kissed we're together now?! I used you! I tried to get into your pants and all I wanted was a shag alright?!'

He launches back his seat in fury and stomps out of the canteen and suddenly you're following him, your feet carrying you after him, screaming and cursing, your voice echoing down the hall.

'You're lying! What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the fuck do you keep pushing and pulling me back and forth?!'

He makes a grab at you then, takes a fistful of your blazer into his hands and throws you against the wall, pins you there with his weight, teeth bared in your face and his breath hot and heavy against your cheek.

'I'm pushing and pulling because I _can_. I've got everyone on a string, I'm King Ding-a-ling, I'm invincible!'

'You're_ gay_ Brendan... and you want me. The more you deny it the more angry you'll be so please...'

You take hold of his hips, press your forehead against his and make your desperate plea, look into his eyes and you can see it, can see that he doesn't want to be like this, that he's hurting and you want to stop it, want to kiss it all away, make it better.

'Please Brendan...'

You whisper, ghost your lips a bit closer to his, your mouth watering for him and your heart beating for him.

The next thing you know, his fist is in your gut and you're winded, every inch of Oxygen punched out of you, your windpipe constricted and tight and you're gasping for breath, leaning against him trembling and he's quaking against you too, like he's realized what he's just done.

'I told you not to push me. Not in case you wanted another smack'

He spits, pushes you to the ground and walks away without regret or remorse, leaves you to scramble to your feet and struggle to breathe, your ribs beginning to pulse and swell, tears welling your eyes. It's not just the pain, it's the fact that you were wrong.

Again.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You know what you've just done.

But that was the devil's side.

Not you.

You're running out of the school gates, down the road as fast as you can because you can't be in that place, the same place where the boy is struggling to breathe, where he's crying because it's suffocating you, crushing you like a bug, from the inside out.

You were in a foul mood from what your dad did to you. You wanted to be alone, wanted to drown on your own and that's why you were a dick to him. You wanted him to leave you because he deserves better than you.

You're messed up, psychologically scarred, abnormal.

Everything that Steven shouldn't have.

But he had to push it, had to take it a step too far. You _had_ to make him hate you, keep him away because you're dangerous, an unpredictable liquid that will burn you one minute and heal you the next. You can't let Steven be exposed to that danger.

You run in through your front door and leg it up the stairs two at a time, sprint into your room and slam the door shut, press your back against it and thud your head onto the wood, allow the tears to stream down your face.

Why do you have to be like this?

Have to have these conflicting emotions, telling you one thing and then telling you another. Why does your dad have to rape you? What did you do that was _so_ wrong?

_He _has made you like this, messed with your head for ten years and then something special comes along, something that has made you feel things that you didn't think you were capable of feeling.

He has screwed that up for you as well and all you want to do is break free, cut those chains that are bound to your wrists and ankles and run away.

You debate on what to do now because Steven hates you. You know he does, but no matter what has happened, you need him in your life one way or another, can't lose him. But now you've really fucked things up.

For once in your life you're not going to be haunted by the shadow of your father, not going to let him bring you down forever and you're going to take back that boy who belongs to you. You're going to grow a pair of balls and apologise, for the sake of whatever is left between you. You know he won't forgive you, don't expect him to either but you have to try.

You can't let the boy slip through your fingers.

You're going to fight to the death for him.

* * *

You're standing outside Steven's house, pacing, trying to structure something to say but you have no idea how to get the boy back, what you'll have to say that'll make him give you another undeserved chance.

'Fuckin hell'

You mumble, and you knock on the door, shift on your feet because you're nervous as hell, about to come face to face with one of your demons, about to confront it.

Kyle opens the door, his face falling when he lays eyes on you, his grip on the door handle beginning to tighten, his knuckles turning white with what you assume is anger.

'What the fuck are _you_ doing here?'

He asks, his voice quivering as if to keep himself under control, but in a weird way, you want him to hit you, you want to feel the pain that you caused the boy because you _deserve_ it.

'Is um... Is Steven in?'

'He doesn't want to talk to you. Not after what you did to him. Again'

You exhale deeply and lower your gaze to the floor, shake your head lightly because this isn't how things were meant to be.

'I came by to say that I'm sorry'

Kyle suddnely lunges at you, pulls you inside and violently throws you against the wall, your back starting to burn at the collision and then he's in your face, one hand gripping your throat, not choking you, but just holding you there, his fingers twitching and a tick forming in his cheek.

'Ste has done nothing to you! You think you have permission to treat him like shit on your shoe?!'

He spits, a bit of his saliva spraying out onto your face. You're not going to fight against him, not going to try and defend yourself, or your actions.

'I just want to talk to him'

You say calmly yet Kyle's face doesn't falter. His lips are in a tight straight line, pupils blown in anger, brows furrowed.

'No one hits my boy and gets away with it'

He growls pulls back and raises a trembling fist and you clamp your eyes shut, wait for the impact to happen but then you hear a boy shout, the voice piercing your eardrums, being the beat of your heart.

'Kyle! Don't!'

His breath is still loud and heavy and laboured, his hand is still around your throat but a punch doesn't come and when you open your eyes and turn, you see Steven with an arm wrapped around his torso, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

'Steven... please... I want to talk to you'

You say, slowly make your way out of Kyle's vice like grip and walk over to him without looking back.

'What do you want Brendan?'

He asks, monosyllabic and blunt, doesn't want to hear your shit and you completely understand. You'll beg if you have to, get on both knee's and kiss his feet if that's what he wants.

'I just... I want to explain... if you'll let me'

You stare at him desperately, just want him to give you a chance, another one that is.

'Please'

You whisper, in the hope that that'll change his mind and thankfully it does. He nods minutely, still unsure, full of uncertainty, but he's willing to give you a chance and that in itself is_ something_.

Steven quickly glances at Kyle and says;

'I'll tell you if I need you okay?'

And then he walks up the stairs, an indicator for you to follow and when you get to the familiar surroundings of his room, you can't help but smile, knowing that you slept in that bed with him, that this is where you shared your first kiss.

He sits on his bed and you perch on the end, not wanting to invade his personal space too much. You can't fuck this up. You have one chance and one chance only.

'Look Steven I'm... I'm sorry for what I did to you...'

He's about to talk, about to interrupt but you need time to explain. You're not going to face the confrontation.

'No please just... let me talk. I'm sorry okay? I was in a bad mood and I know that isn't an excuse but... me and my dad... had an _argumen_t and you know what he's like when he's angry. He lashes out and that's what happened. Sometimes... I have these moments when I can't control myself, and he, that monster just takes over me, possesses me practically and it makes me lash out. I don't want to be like this Steven, believe me I don't but...'

You can't finish, have no idea whether your words have managed to make him see you in a different light, that your troubled rather than messed up. You can't tell him about the rapes though. You can't bring yourself to tell anyone because you don't want him to look at you as if you're damaged goods. You don't want the sympathy, the pathetic pity. Nobody else has turned out like this, like you..

'Why did you have to take it out on me? After everything, after we kissed... do I mean _nothing_ to you?'

He asks, on the verge of crying, his eyes welling up and this is where you realize the true extent of what you've done to him and it's breaking you in half, tearing you to shreds.

'Steven, what you need to understand is that...I know who... what I am, and it scares me'

'Do I scare you?'

He mumbles, refuses to let a diamond tear dribble down his Bambi face.

'I scare me. I'm so unpredictable. I don't know when I'll snap, it could be at any time and any place and you don't deserve that, which is why you should stay away from me. I'm no good for you.'

He takes hold of your wrist then, curls his long, golden fingers around your arm and looks at you with sympathy. He seems to know that you're not a monster, that you're not the person that _you_ think you are.

'I'm not letting go now. When you kissed me, I felt it, right in here-' He flattens a palm against his own chest 'And I know you felt it as well, so please just... stop pushing me away. I'm not gunna judge you or force you into anything. If you wanna _ just_ be mates that's fine but...'

He pauses momentarily, studies the hand that is touching you, seeming to be hit by a wave of nostalgia.

'Saturday night, I have _never_ wanted anyone as much as I wanted you, Steven.'

You whisper as you twist your wrist and thread your fingers through his, closing them around his hand and squeezing, because you don't want to ever let go.

'I want to try something'

You say, as you shuffle forward and sit closer to him, your knees brushing and fingers still intertwined. Your gaze slips from his eyes, down his perfectly structured face, to his pink, kissable lips.

'While we're sober'


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning- Basically just sex in this, so anyone with a slightly delicate disposition should maybe refrain from reading this!**

**Brendan's P.O.V**

'What are you talking about?'

Steven asks, his brows pulling together in a frown, but you need to do this, need to kiss him, need to touch him. You move in slowly, note how he's holding his breath in anticipation and you close your mouth around his, allow your eyes to drift into the back of your head as you savour the taste and the feel. You lick out his mouth, allow your tongues to slide against each other, let your lips move in perfect sync.

You curl a hand underneath his thigh and haul him on top so he's straddling you, continue to kiss him deeply and you can't help but let out a deep growl because kissing a boy has never made you feel like this before, never made you feel like you're floating yet plummeting to the ground at the same time. It's never made you feel high like you've just sniffed a line of Cocaine.

You slide your hands down his perfect back, admire the smooth contours, something you envy because yours isn't like that. It's deeply and horrendously scarred, disgusting, ugly. You make yourself feel sick whenever you look at it.

The boy has obviously forgotten about your self consciousness, what he saw all those weeks ago when you were shirtless in your bedroom because he curls his fingers underneath your shirt and starts lifting slowly. It makes your heart hammer, even more so than it is already because you don't want him to see you. Not all of you at least.

You take hold of his wrists and tear your lips away, feeling at an immediate loss.

'No'

You whisper lightly against his lips, lower your head because you're ashamed that you _can't_ give him what he evidently wants. A person who he can press his body against, skin on skin without hesitation, someone who's beautiful to look at and that person _isn't_ you.

'What?'

He asks, distances himself a little with what appears to be irritation, something you expected.

'I wanna keep my shirt on...'

You mumble, exhale a deep breath because this is the norm now, having to hide yourself. He takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb, lifts to force eye contact and his face isn't what you expected. It's soft, understanding, his eyes are glistening, still enriched with want and need for _you_.

'Hey, it's _okay'_

But it isn't is it? He shouldn't have to put up with this, a man that still needs to be clothed when this is meant to be a moment of intimacy, a moment in which you're supposed to appreciate each other's bodies and beauty.

'It's just... my back...'

'Shhhh'

He croons, leans in and silences you with a tentative kiss, warm and soft and full of meaning.

'You don't have to make excuses with me Brendan. I won't force you to do anything'

You huff a laugh. This boy isn't what you expected at all. He deserves perfection, a man that gives him what he wants, what he needs. Someone who isn't afraid of themselves.

He lays his lips on yours again, kisses you _so_ deeply, licks inside your mouth with force. He rubs his crotch against your stomach, tries to create a pleasurable friction and you simply grab his perfectly round arse, cup his cheeks in your palms and squeeze nice and hard, have the boy moaning down your throat and pulling on your hair. You fucking love it, love having it rough and hard and wild.

Your self control falters for a split second, causing you to lift him into your arms and slam him against the adjacent wall, your lips parting with a small grunt but slamming back together with need. He locks his legs around your waist, continues to yank on your hair and bite on your lip hard, blood rising to the bruised, wet surface.

'Please'

He whimpers, tilts his head back against the wall, allowing you perfect access to his golden neck. You lick his Adam's apple, suck on it, sink your teeth into his warm flesh and lap at his flickering pulse. He's desperate, begging for you and nothing turns you on more. His whines vibrate through your entire body, jump quickly between your synapses and travel straight to your dick, initiating a twitch, an immediate hard on.

You drop the boy to the floor, touch him to his feet and fumble with his t-shirt, slide it over his head, your lips parting for a micro second. You discard his shirt, throw it across the room like it has offended you and you waste no time in touching his warm body, golden like honey and smooth like silk.

You run a single finger over every bump of his ribs, claw at his bony hips. You need to see him, need to look at this known perfection and familiarize yourself because your mind is still obscured, still unclear from your drunken night. You pull him away from the wall and throw him onto the bed like a rag doll, so weightless and easy.

You take in the sight before you, his hips red from where you scratched him, ribs sticking out slightly underneath his taught, brown skin, his nipples pink and hard from the cold winter evening, lips wet and bruised, eyes black from full dilation of his pupils.

He looks perfect and it makes your mouth water, makes your erection pulse even more.

'Look at you'

You croak, barely manage to get out the words. He looks down at himself, and then back at you, obviously doesn't realize how beautiful he is.

'You're beautiful'

You feel the need to tell him, to remind him. He gets up onto his knees then, reaches out to you and hooks a finger into the rim of your trousers, pulls you towards him with a seductive grin.

'So are you'

He breathes, presses his head against your chin as he starts undoing your belt. You can hear the small collision of metal against metal and he's shaking, nervous, something you never associated with the boy. You finish off the job and slide your belt out from the loops, drop it next to you and let him fumble with your button as he begins to kiss your hot neck, his lips blending in with the warmth. He sucks on your pulse, hard enough to form a clot but you just mumble, groan and drop your head back as he pleasures you.

He's being a tease, deliberately stroking the bottom of your stomach lightly with his fingertips, despite the fact that your trousers are open, straining and rubbing against your rock hard cock.

'Steven'

You croon darkly next to his ear, one hand on his hip.

'Yes?'

He replies, doesn't stop kissing your flesh and biting on your collar bones, his voice high and suggestive, acting dumb because he knows what he's doing, has you where he wants you.

'That's not where I want your hand to be'

You growl, take hold of his hand and stop the movement.

'Well, where would you like it to be?'

He mutters with a smile, you can hear it in his tone. Cheeky fucker.

'I want it right... here'

You move his hand, trail it down and along your groin and slip it into your boxers. He pulls his head away from your neck then, looks you in the eyes and licks his lips. You can't look away, your mind drifts to what he could potentially do to you with that mouth, how it'd turn you into a fucking mess.

'Is _this _what you want me to do?'

He asks, and then he closes his hand around you, squeezes slightly and your whole body jolts involuntarily, a wave of pleasure shooting up your spine.

'Fuck'

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slowly starts to stroke you, his palm sliding up your girth, tightening around your foreskin and you feel the pre-cum dribble out of your cock onto his fingers. You feel an immediate loss when his hand comes out of your trousers. Your eyes shoot open and you melt completely when you see him licking your pre-cum and sucking on his thumb, determined to swallow every single bit.

'Jesus'

You whisper. The sight has knocked every breath out of you.

'Taste it'

He says, leans up and sticks his tongue in your mouth, rubs it over your own and your taste buds begin to tingle when you taste the saltiness. You groan into his mouth, take hold of his hand and lead it back down into your pants, nearly go limp when he starts tossing you off again.

'Oh god'

You choke out a small cry, have a hand on the back of his head and insist that he carries on kissing your throat, licking into the dip and dragging his hot lips up your neck towards your earlobes. You've never received so much pleasure from a boy giving you a hand job. Your pelvic muscles are tingling, knees are weak, head is spinning.

You swipe Steven's legs out from underneath him, lay him on his back and crawl on top because you're slowly losing it, losing your sanity, all self control. The endorphins are rushing through your veins, hormones overpowering any rational thought.

'You're trembling'

Steven points out, his hands running down your biceps and stopping at your elbows.

'This is what you do to me'

You chuckle darkly, press your forehead against his in the heat of the moment and kiss him again, fireworks setting off in your chest, acid filling your muscles, blood rushing into your cock. You start trailing your lips down his feverish body, hot and glazed with a fine layer of sweat, stop at his nipples and suck on them, pinch them between your teeth and flick them with your tongue. It causes the boy to wriggle and writhe underneath you, lift his hips and grind them against your pelvis.

You spot the purple bruising from where you had punched him earlier, guilt rising in the pit of your stomach. You graze your lips against the swelling, lightly kiss the discolouring.

'I'm sorry'

You whisper against his skin and his fingers tangle through your hair when he says;

'It's okay'

You don't dwell on the past now, the markings were not caused by you, but the devil that lies inside, the part that you now have to fight and you need Steven by your side if you have any chance of succeeding.

You move away from the bruises with the aid of Steven's minute force, drift closer to where he wants you to be, where _you_ want to be. You fumble with his belt, surprisingly steady considering, and you let his dick spring up from the confines of his boxers, hard, slick with pre-cum, a beautiful pink swell.

'You ever been given a blowy before Steven?'

You ask, more of a rhetorical question but you want to hear it, want there to be some sort of challenge, a record that you can smash.

'No'

He gulps, his fingers still raked through your hair, but he speaks with confidence, with anticipation.

'What... never?'

You ask and he peers down at you, scared that you've stretched the answer, like he's stupid for never having a proper sexual experience.

'N-No. Is that bad?'

He stutters, his brows furrowing, his free hand coming round to cup his manhood in embarrassment.

'No. Course it isn't'

You drag his hand away, smile because you know what's going to happen, can picture the end result.

'You're going to be a fucking mess when I'm finished with you'

You say, snigger when his head lolls back onto the pillow at your filthy promise.

His dick is beautiful, bigger than you anticipated, light hairs scattered at the bottom. You take his pink swell into your mouth, lick all around the sensitive head, wanting to swallow every last drop of his pre-cum, feel it slide and stick down your throat.

'Oh... Fuck!'

He curses, lifts his hips, wanting more of your mouth around him but you don't grant him that wish yet. You want to degrade him into a mess, have him begging for you to swallow him. You poke your tongue into the slit, suck out any remaining pre-cum and then take him back into your mouth, bob your head up and down, nice and slow. You close your lips around him, keep a hand at the base, squeezing with minimal pressure, your other hand massaging his balls and already he's choking out sobs, has evidently never been pleasured like this before.

'Fuck. Brendan please'

He whimpers, attempts to fuck your mouth again. When you have the power back, you take a deep breath and take every single inch of him down your throat, attempt to control your gag reflex and he practically screams, has to throw his own hand over his mouth to shut himself up because you and he _both_ know that Kyle is downstairs.

You stay there for as long as you can, suck and lick and then you come back up for air, release his cock from your mouth with a pop.

'Fucking hell'

He breathes in exhaustion and you toss him off quickly, your hand moving at a moderate speed thanks to your manual lubrication. You giggle to yourself as you cause the train wreck, as he whimpers _fuck fuck fuck fuck_ repetitively.

His hand closes around yours then, makes you slow down to a complete stop.

'You okay?'

You ask, keep your hand firmly around his dick while you touch yourself.

'Yeah... I was about to cum. Didn't want to yet'

He says, his eyes closed as he tries to control his shaking. He sits up, drags your chin up to his level and kisses you, one, two, three times and then he smiles, his hair moist with sweat.

'Such a pretty mouth'

You say as you rub your thumb along his bottom lip, bite your own as your dick throbs even more from your touching fest. You kiss him again, lie him back down and follow him this time, splay your weight over him, help him shove off his trousers until he is completely naked underneath you.

'So beautiful'

You say, as you kiss him, as you lick out his mouth again and grind yourself against each other, dry humping. The boy slips his hands into your trousers and squeezes your arse, digs his nails into your flesh and drags his body against you even harder, wanting every inch you.

He starts pulling at your trousers, manages to yank them down over your ass and you pull them off, throw them carelessly across the room along with your boxers. You rub your naked groins together, your dicks causing a delicious friction. He hooks a leg over your hip, allowing you perfect access to his hole and you take the opportunity, slide your hand down his thigh, the prickle of his hairs tickling your palm and you give his arse an almighty slap. You slowly drag your middle finger along his perineum until you reach his entrance.

It causes him to freeze, every movement, even the kissing and whimpering.

'Just relax. I'm gunna make you feel good. I promise.'

You croon reassuringly into his ear and start rubbing against his hole, massage the tight ring. You bring your finger up to your lips and lick, slick it up, self lubricate and then return, rub your saliva over him and then slide the tip in, causing his whole body to jolt.

'Jesus'

He says as he scratches into your neck, pulls on your hair when you start to rhythmically finger him, his tight, heated muscle clinging to your instrument and you have him in a weak mess within minutes.

'Faster'

He demands, completely out of breath but you follow his orders, his pleas and you push your finger in as fast and as hard as you can, want to try and find that perfect spot but it's proving difficult.

'You want me to fuck you?'

You ask filthily as you continue to push into his body and scratch down his belly.

'Will it hurt?'

He whines heatedly, his eyes still closed, head lolled into the crook of your elbow. You can't lie to the boy and say that it'll be fine, he's been honest and you need to do the same. With everything.

'It will at first. But I'll go nice and slow. Make you feel _so_ good. You only have to say stop and I will'

You exhale, twist and curl your finger, circulate, wanting to feel his insides and make him scream. You still can't find it, that little spot that'll set his body on fire.

'Please'

He sobs, pulls your head down to kiss you. You pull out your finger and touch yourself again, build up the friction. You hear him opening a draw, feel him scrambling inside for what you presume is a condom.

He drags his lips away from yours and tears the silver wrapping with his teeth, rolls the thing onto you with ease and settles back into the soft mattress, leaves a tube of lube next to you and reaches out a hand which you take, intertwine your fingers and you kiss every single one of them lightly, your other hand busy squirting lube onto yourself and around his hole.

'You ready?'

You mumble against his fingers and he nods, a smile spread across his face and he pulls you down on top of him, slides an arm around your neck and keeps your fingers locked together. You slowly push against him, whisper_ relax, trust me_ into his ear and then he allows the penetration, relaxes all of his muscles and you slide in, hear him wince in pain so you halt your movements momentarily, kiss his neck and cheek comfortingly and slide back out again.

When you go back in, the heat knocks you for six, the tightness of him, how his muscle clings to your dick and your head starts spinning, is obscured by white fog. You're afraid that with a few thrusts you're going to cum straight away so you gather your bearings, lean your head against his shoulder and start fucking him, slowly to begin with, awaiting his call to tell you to go faster, and when he does, you don't hold back.

You shag him with everything you've got, thrust wildly into him and grunt in annoyance because you still haven't found _it._ In every guy you've shagged, you've hit their prostate with ease but not with Steven. He's making you work hard, still crying out in pleasure, his face scrunching up, eyes drowning in the heat.

'Where the fuck...'

You grumble to yourself, try a different technique, twist your hips and circulate, generating a high pitched squeal from Steven, his nails scratching into your skin and you smile in satisfaction.

'Looks like I found it'

You say, so fucking smug and you do the same again, the same angled hip rotation and you get the same scream. You fuck into him relentlessly now that you know where his prostate is, and you hit it mercilessly, have him kicking and writhing, sweating and silently screaming and you take hold of his dick that's trapped between your moist stomachs, stroke him firmly, quickly and then his moans come to a complete halt. He launches his head back into the pillow, the veins in his neck bulging and pulsing, he throws a hand over his mouth again and screams into his palm as he violently cums over his belly and your hand. You fuck him through his orgasm and finally let go, spunk into latex and groan loudly against his skin. You suck on his neck, stop yourself from shouting, squeeze hard on his hand because your orgasm is so intense, unlike any other you've had before.

The boy lets out a deep, exhausted breath, groans and twitches as the rest of his orgasm plays out and the aftermath kicks in. You lie on top of him, your head against his chest, cock still buried deep inside of him and he's stroking the side of your face, breathing heavily, trying to calm down the erratic beating of his heart.

'My god. That's the best sex I've ever had'

You choke as you listen to his heart hammering against the walls of his chest, the regulating intakes of breath.

'It's the only sex I've ever had!'

Steven chuckles to himself, a donkey like laugh that used to piss you off but it doesn't anymore. It calms you down. You lift your chin and look up at him, see his gleaming smile and bright blue eyes gazing down at you.

'You okay?'

'I'm more than okay. That was amazing'

He says, truly sincere and he leans down to kiss you again. You pull out of him, remove the condom and allow him to change back into his clothes. He throws over your trousers and boxers, allows you to do the same and then you leave his bedroom, trot down the stairs where you're not only greeted by Kyle, but also by Danny, Jamie and Liam, all sat around the kitchen table playing poker.

'Alright Ste?'

Danny asks as he eyes you up wearily.

'Yeah. I'm good. Me and Brendan were just talking'

'Hmmm'

Liam says, a resistant smirk on his face, dimples indented in his cheeks.

Fuck.

'Is that what the kids call it now-a-days?'

Kyle asks, resisting the urge to smile like an idiot, analysing his hand of cards as some sort of distraction.

'Yeah if you're going to have sex you might want to try and quieten down a little bit buddy'

Jamie chuckles, an already made fag sticking out of his mouth, unlit.

'No... No we were just...'

Steven stutters, tries to defend both of your dignities. You slump your head in embarrassment and practically hide behind him, shield yourself from their scrutiny because they hate you enough already.

'Oooooo lads! He's gunna try and deny it!'

Jamie howls, slapping down his hand and thumping the table, a smile plastered on his face because he knows he has you _both_ figured out.

'_Please... Oh my god Brendan... Harder...yes'_

Liam attempts to mimic Steven's voice, pretty well in all fairness and he scrunches up his face, attempts to recreate the scene, lets out a fake orgasm. The room erupts with laughter, everyone accept for Danny clinging onto their stomachs because they're laughing too hard. _His_ face remains straight, lips pursed, fists clenched.

'Okay! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!'

Steven shouts, takes hold of your hand and drags you away from the table towards the front door. You're kind of glad to be away from there as well, the lads knowing that you've taken the boy's virginity could easily sprout an argument, especially seeing as they have a grudge against you already, and rightly so.

'Sorry about them'

Steven mutters in annoyance when you're both outside. He runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, his cheeks a dark shade of pink, his skin flushed.

'Don't worry about it. I'm just glad that they didn't beat me up'

You take hold of his hips and bring him into you, circulate your arms around him, shift from one foot to the other.

'They wouldn't touch you if I told them not too'

He replies with a cheeky grin on his face, his hands rubbing up your chest and wrapping around your neck.

'Is that so?'

'Yeah'

He pokes his tongue out between his teeth and slowly rises onto his tip toes, is about to kiss you again when you hear a knocking on the window. You look in the direction of the sound, see Jamie, Liam and Kyle all making kissing gestures towards each other, their tongues sticking out and recreating sexual positions, doggy style mainly.

'Fuck off!'

Steven shouts, holds up his middle finger and you bury your face in his neck, not wanting to see it because it still freaks you out slightly, but with Steven, you know you can come to terms with it.

'Fucking bastards'

He whispers when they fall on the floor in a fit of laughter.

'Jamie is 22! You wouldn't believe it would you?'

He mutters but you ignore him, disinterested. You take his face into your hands, plant a slow and sensual kiss on his lips for the final time tonight, stroke a hand through his slightly damp hair and whisper _goodnight Steven._


	13. Chapter 13

**Ste's P.O.V**

You watch as Brendan walks off down the road trying to flatten down his hair from where you had been pulling and tugging on it while you made love. A smile is embedded on your face as you watch after him, the cute little shake of his bum as he walks initiates a small giggle which he obviously hears because he turns back around and smiles at you, wide and gleaming and it makes your heart leap into your throat. You run your fingers through your slightly damp hair in embarrassment, raise your hand and awkwardly wave. You can feel that your cheeks are on fire, evidently flushed scarlet. Brendan winks at you before turning and walking off into the winter darkness, the outline of his figure becoming less defined as he walks off down the dark street, blending into the shadows.

You turn and walk back through your front door, are immediately met by your house mates who are wearing blank expressions, all sat around the table acting 'natural'.

'So... You and Brendan eh?'

Jamie says airily, one leg folded over the other, his eyebrows raised and lips twitching from where he was trying not to burst into a fit of laughter from his previous mockery.

'What about us?'

You ask casually, opening his packet of cigarettes that lay on the counter and tucking one behind your ear for later.

'You two... bum buddies now?'

Liam interrupts, has to have his say on the situation. His pose is similar to Jamie's, rehearsed no doubt to put you on the spot and make you uncomfortable. You eye Danny consciously, note how his position hasn't changed since you came down the stairs with Brendan. He's rigid like a gargoyle, his fists still clenched, lips pursed and knuckles white.

'Danny?'

You mutter gently, circulate the table to try and set eyes on his face but he stands before you can do so and grabs his coat from the hooks by the front door.

'I'm going to Sarah's for a bit. Try not to burn the house down or turn it into an... orgy parlour.'

He snaps quickly and storms out of the house, power walks down the street and you rush to the window to see which path he takes. He walks in the opposite direction to which Brendan took which makes you sigh with relief because you know what Danny can be like, how protective and primal he can get. He's beaten up kids that have upset you in the past multiple times. Of course they never went near you again, an advantage of having Danny on your side but you've always thought that there are better ways to handle things, that violence isn't everything.

'Don't worry about him. You know how he is'

Jamie mutters as he comes over to you and loops an arm around your shoulders, steers you over to the table where Liam and Kyle are still sat, more comfortably now though, Danny's absence seeming to calm them as well as yourself.

'Well...'

Kyle begins, waving his fist in a circular motion to try to get you to elaborate on what happened.

'What?'

You ask, try to tip your head down and hide the grin that has spread across your face, your chest fluttering with butterflies at the memories.

'Tell us what happened! I wanna know everything!'

He beams, resting his elbows on the table and planting his chin in his palms thinking that the story you're about to tell is going to be juicy and sapid. The other two are gazing at you with the same interest and you feel as if you have no choice but to tell the tale. You feel comfortable enough to do so though, despite the topic of conversation you don't feel the need to hold back.

'Fine...'

You sigh in defeat and sit forward in your seat, aren't going to explain what happened in minute detail because those are things that are meant to be kept private but you've shared and explained _all_ of your life experiences to these guys.

'We kinda talked for a little bit, about... why he hit me and stuff...'

You pause when you hear the cracking of Kyle's knuckles, remember how he was seconds away from punching the shit out of Brendan before he stopped on your command. You put a hand on top of his, a way of telling him that _everything _is okay, because it is.

'And then... He told me he was sorry. I could _see_ it in his face. He isn't a bad bloke he's just... troubled. Anyway, he told me he wanted to try something and then he kissed me, so I kissed him back and we just...Had sex'

You shrug your shoulders as if it's no big deal, your mind wondering back to how he made you feel, how his touch made your skin burn, how his kiss made your heart leap.

'That's it...?'

Jamie mumbles, seems disappointed with your anecdote and he drops his arms and lies them flat on the table.

'Well what else do you want to know?! How he shoved his dick in me? How he sucked on my nipples? What?'

Kyle and Jamie both cringe, scream like 5 year olds in protest and throw their hands over their ears, both shaking their heads vigorously at your inappropriate outburst. What else were they seriously expecting?

'I don't mind hearing about that!'

Liam pipes and you throw one of the playing cards at him that he'd been using earlier during the game of poker. His face scrunches as it skims his forehead and he lets out a small chuckle when he sets sights on your taken aback expression.

'Shut up. You're just a greedy fuck. Having it on with boys _and_ girls'

The older man smiles and shoots a small wink at you, his blonde, highlighted hair gelled to perfection, eyebrows shaped beautifully, cheek bones stunningly structured. Liam really is a gorgeous human being, his teeth gleaming white although he says his perfection levels falter slightly there because he had braces for 18 months when he was fourteen but you disagree completely. If you met him on the street as a complete stranger then there's no doubt you'd be attracted to him but he's like a brother to you. It doesn't prevent you from flirting with him teasingly however.

'Well, sometimes a lad needs a little bit of variety in his life'

He attempts to justify, giving you a light tap on the cheek and making his way to the kitchen to cook dinner seeing as Danny has taken off. Danny has always been alpha male, this house being his territory but when he's gone, Liam seems to take his place despite the fact that Jamie is Danny's twin. He doesn't really have a place in this 'pack' as it were, isn't a follower but isn't a leader either. If anything he's quite independent, the same as you in some ways although you rely on _all _of them, are dependent on them because you have to be. You're the cub, the youngest, are still at school, a mere child. You don't mind that status however, you embrace it because all of them are your protectors.

You look over to Jamie and Kyle and see that they still have their fingers in their ears and their brows furrowed., are looking at you with questioning expressions, telepathically asking whether you are finished with sharing your sexual experience.

'You're such twats'

You chuckle and jog up the stairs to reminisce in what happened between you and Brendan, your room smelling strongly of sex and the duvet still scrunched up in a ball in the corner of your bed. You decide to straighten it out and jump onto the neatened quilt, spread your limbs like Jesus on the cross and stare at the ceiling with a smile still plastered on your face as you picture Brendan on top of you once again.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You're on top of the world when you wake up the next morning. You had managed to repress your regular nightmares somewhat, didn't wake up in a pool of your own sweat with a racing heart and stabbing skin in the fear that your dad was going to come and get you in the middle of the night. You _did_ hear footsteps when you'd just climbed into bed and because of the anticipation, the constant worry that always chips constantly in your brain you _thought_ it was Seamus. But when you concentrated through your momentary panic you realised that the footsteps were out of sync and too light against the ground.

It was Cheryl.

You calmed down a lot quicker when you thought about the boy and how he'd made you feel. You felt comfortable with yourself when you were in his presence, felt confident in every fibre of your being when he touched you, kissed you, when he called you _beautiful_.

You've never been called that before. The meaningless shags have said that you have a great dick and you're an amazing fuck but that didn't exactly boost your self esteem.

You trot down the stairs when you've brushed your teeth, gotten changed and applied your daily oil to your back, a spring in your step and smile on your face which immediately brightens when you see that Steven is in your kitchen leaning against the sink, a glass of water in hand. He looks beautiful, more so than ever which you thought was impossible. His skin is like velvet, spotless and golden and enhanced by the rays of sunlight that peak through the kitchen blinds. He's in his uniform, blazer sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie undone and slung over his shoulders and trousers low around his hips with the rim of his boxers on show.

'Hey'

You say casually as you stroll in, looking him up and down deliberately so he can see that you're analysing him. He returns the seductive look, licks along his pink lips and flutters his long lashes, although you freeze your flirting abruptly when you see your dad out of the corner of your eye, seemingly nursing _another_ hangover with a mug of coffee and paracetamol.

'Urm... You waiting for Cheryl?'

You ask, suddenly acting disinterested because everything has changed now you've noted Seaumus' presence. You can't have him suspecting anything because he'll become instinctive and primal, is likely to ward of the competition and claim you as his own. He still has the power to do that, still has that hold over you. If he becomes dubious then Steven will get fired from the pub, is likely to get his head bashed in and you won't ever be able to see him again.

You have no choice but to resort back to treating him like shit while your father is around.

Steven looks between you and your dad hesitantly, notices how you've changed your tone and seems to have made the connection, his smile falling into a neutral expression.

'Umm... Yeah. Me and your dad were just talking about how my shifts are going. Apparently I'm better than you'

He lets out a small giggle, says it with a high amount of doubt but what he doesn't realise is that Seamus means it. You look over at your father and he's wearing a smirk, knows he's gotten under your skin but you shake it off. You should be used to this by now, the little digs he constantly makes to purposely frustrate you.

'Right... well... I'm gunna head off. I'll see you later'

You leave with a pleasant and mannered smile, skip breakfast because you can't be in here anymore, refuse to belittle yourself in front of Steven and allow yourself to be patronized further. Steven may have witnessed you getting beaten to a pulp but he doesn't know the half of _that_ man, how much of a sick monster he is, what he's done and what he's taken; he's stolen your innocence, slashed you wide open and let you bleed for nearly a decade, planted a seed inside of you to make you unlovable, cut out a part of himself and buried it inside of you so no matter where you are, you'll always be bad, always have him with you, a consistent and lurking shadow.

You shuffle down the street with your bag slung over your shoulder and hands in your pockets, aren't really sure where to go from here. The more you see Steven, the more at risk you are of your dad finding out. However, the less you see him, the more your heart will ache for him.

While you drown in your confliction you suddenly feel a great weight land on your back and you nearly plummet to the ground, your heart leaping into your throat, the fight or flight instinct kicking in and you're ready to punch someone in the face, cause a serious amount of harm.

'Hey!'

Paddy's voice diverts the journey of your train of thought and he slides off of your back until he's walking in sync with you. His face falls from his original gleaming smile when he looks at your stern face.

'What's up with you today?'

He asks, stuffing a slice of toast into his mouth, obviously running late as usual and not having the time to consume his breakfast at home. His apatite is larger than yours which surprises you because he isn't as muscular as you are. You're more broad, have more tone where-as he has an athletic body, more eloquent and nimble as opposed to strong.

'Nothing. You scared me. Never do that again'

He swallows his mouthful and smiles at you with content, obviously proud of himself that he nearly gave you a heart attack. He opens his mouth as if to say something but then he reconsiders.

'What were you gunna say?'

You ask as you continue to walk down the road towards the school gates, pinching his other piece of toast and eating it before he can protest.

'Nothing. You always say no anyway so it doesn't matter.'

He replies, shrugging off his question as if it doesn't matter, but you push further, actually want to hear what he has to say because it'll take your mind off of your own dilemma.

'No, go on'

You elbow him lightly, want to facilitate the conversation. Anything is better than having these derogatory thoughts running through your head, this confliction that you want to run away from.

'I was just going to ask if you wanted to come to the game tonight but you're always working. Like I said, no big deal'

He smiles reassuringly, like he knows that you're going to reject him but you take some time to think about it for a second. This morning, you were on top of the world and you're letting some stupid words ruin your day. No, this isn't how things are going to be anymore. You need to rise above them, need to put the important things first and Paddy is the only person that you class as being a friend.

'I'd love to go. Fuck work, I'll take a night off'

You announce, sling an arm around his shoulder and smile at him. His eyes widen with pure shock that you've actually agreed to do something with him, for so long you've shrugged him off and made up petty excuses because you've felt like a prisoner in your own home, felt like an animal in a cage, the key to the lock inside your dads hand.

This so called _rebellion_ is a way of making your prison break, of bending those bars and escaping.

'Really?'

He asks in seek of confirmation, wants to know that he's heard you correctly. You nod, a curl forming in the corner of your lip which initiates a smirk of his own. He flings his arms around your neck in a brotherly hug and practically skips the rest of the way to school in delight.

* * *

When lunch comes around, Paddy wonders off to find his sister which leaves you sat at the table in the canteen alone although you decide not to stay there for long. Instead you wonder off down the corridors before Cheryl and Steven arrive and before Paddy returns with Danielle. You need some time to yourself, need to think of how you're going to get around your dad tonight, how you're going to handle things while this _thing_ with Steven is going on. Needless to say you aren't paying any attention and you suddenly collide into someone as they're exiting a classroom.

'Shit. I'm sorry'

The familiar Mancunian accent makes you sigh. You're not sure whether it's in relief because you have his body close to yours once again and you feel some sort of comfort, or whether it's annoyance because he toys with your emotions. Not intentionally of course but whenever he's around he has the power to change every thought, every decision that you _think_ is final.

'Hey'

He says, the frown embedded on his forehead straightening out and his eyelashes fluttering as he sets his gaze on you. He grins up at you, eyes wide and innocent, lips pink and plush.

'Hey'

You reply, relatively blunt and disconcerted which juxtaposes the sudden erratic beat of your heart, smashing against the walls of your chest at the mere sight of his scrawny self. He slips his hands inside of your blazer and wraps his arms around you, pulls your heated body into his own and licks his bottom lip suggestively.

'Woahh... What are you doing?'

You ask as you unravel yourself from his grip, your skin beginning to crawl at the thought of someone catching you like this, what the consequences could be. You look around the corridor in search of any passing students, make sure that you haven't been spotted. If word spreads in the school then it's bound to reach home. Steven's face creases in confusion at your draw back, his eyes slipping down to your lips which you lick instinctively.

'I'm putting my arms around you...'

He goes in again to try wrap you up in his embrace but you put a hand firmly on his chest to prevent him from doing so, wear a solid and rigid face of warning to make your point imperative. Something resembling understanding shows in his eyes yet they darken in disappointment, in upset.

'Right... I get it, you're ashamed of me'

He says and he folds his arms in a sulk, his lips shaping into that sexy pout that gets your blood flowing every time. You feel the need to defend him here because you're not ashamed of _him,_ you're ashamed of what you _have_ with him, how you're feeling and the fact that you're powerless to stop it.

'No... I'm ashamed of myself, of who I am-'

'Like I said... You're ashamed of me. We're exactly the same Brendan... we _feel_ the same...'

He sighs and dips his head between his shoulders, looks away from you and you feel this stabbing in your chest like a persistent knife and you suddenly want to take him into your arms and say that everything _will_ be okay, with time. Until you're strong enough to let go, to disregard this darkness in your soul.

'Steven there's something you _need_ to understand. I am not, and never will be the guy you can walk down the street with hand in hand, who you can kiss in public. I'm not the one who is going to say _I love you _in front of everyone because I don't even know the meaning of the word. Love _doesn't _exist. I don't believe that one person can feel so strongly for another, can physically need someone in their life to keep them sane, to keep them together. This whole soul mate thing... how can anyone be so dependent on someone else that they actually feel like their heart is breaking when they're not around? Feel like they have no purpose without that person in their life?'

All of these questions are rhetorical, are designed to show who you are in the simplest of forms, show what you believe. All of the things you say are true, you don't believe in love because you've never felt it and you've never received it. You don't think you ever will.

'This is about people finding out isn't it? Your dad and that?'

He says, has seen beyond your speech and gotten to the route straight away, knows you far better than you think but his face still tells you that he's hurt by what you've said, by your declaration. Maybe he's coming to his senses and realizing that maybe there isn't a future for you two, that you'll never be the man he needs nor the man he wants.

'Look Brendan...'

He steps a little closer to you and your breath hitches, hope he isn't going to try and make a move on you because you'll go too far to try and stop him, know that the rope will snap violently and you'll be powerless to stop what happens.

'If this is the way things have to be then... That's fine. If you want to keep me and you a secret then we can and I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. You don't have to rush things right? Not for anyone. But I know you feel _something_. It might not be love but right here-'

He touches a closed fist to the centre of your chest;

'-something happens when we're close, when we kiss, when we touch...'

You take hold of his fist firmly, feel your blood boil and heat rises to the surface. You drag him down the corridor fiercely, aren't totally sure yourself what's happening but the next thing you know you're forcing open a door to the caretakers supply room. You flick on the light and yank him inside, throw him back against the metal shelves and press your body up against him with your breath heavy and hitching in his face. His brows knit together in pain from the metal digging into his back and the force in which you pushed him. His eyes are battled, questioning whether you intend to hurt him.

'Why do you _always _do this to me?'

You ask, desperate to know the answer because you're scared of what he's turning you into. He brings his arms around your waist and cups your bum in his hands, breathes heavily into the small, confined space and gazes up at you with his pupil blown eyes, hooded by the shadows of his long lashes.

'Kiss me'

He pleads, wets his lips in anticipation and before you can stop yourself, before you can rationalize your thought processes your lips are on his, rough and wild and your hands are frantically exploring every inch of his body. You tug and pull at his clothes, run your fingers through his hair and lick out his mouth, allow your tongues to dance and exchange saliva as you intimately touch each other. You groan at the taste of him, the feel of his warm body against you and he's pulling you closer, trying to close the non-existent gap.

To your disappointment he reluctantly pulls away, completely breathless with bruised, red lips that glisten in your spit and his hair is mussed from where you were gripping clumps of it.

'Come to mine tonight'

He whispers, cool against the side of your cheek as he starts to nibble on your earlobes. You can't resist, can't possibly decline that offer because the thoughts that are running through your head already have you excited, a buzz ticking in your gut.

'Fuck... I can't. I told Paddy I'd watch him play tonight'

'Come afterwards and stay with me... _please_'

He's practically begging you, taking a fistful of your blazer into his hands and pressing his forehead against your chest. Again you can't resist, have no idea how you'll get around Seamus especially seeing as it's a school night but you couldn't give a shit right now. You're about to spend a second night with this boy, are about to delve deeper into the canyon and no doubt create more inner conflict but it's addictive, you can't get enough of this particular brand of drug.

'Okay... I'll see you tonight yeah? Hope you're stashed up on condoms'

You mutter sensually, one last grind of your hips against his and he's biting on his lip, trying to keep his grip on you but you pull away.

'Why might I need condoms?'

He asks, is torturing himself with this, with wanting to hear your filthy propositions but you're more than willing to make him horny, to have him thinking of nothing else until you fuck him later on tonight.

'Because I'm gunna make you cum enough to create a waterfall'

You croon, husky and deep and you close in on him again like a vulture circling his prey, like a tiger ready to pounce. He wraps his arms around your neck and you start kissing again, this time it's deep and longing, filled with heat, passion, a sultry ache and need to be close to one another. You press your chest and hips against him again and plant sweet, sucky kisses against his golden neck, lap at the flickering pulse with the tip of your tongue as his head lolls back against the metal shelving.

Suddenly, the door to the supply room swings open and your lips disconnect from Steven's throat with a small pop. You turn your head at lightning speed to see Mr Price standing over the both over you, hands in his pockets and a face like thunder.

'What the hell are you two doing in here?!'

He hisses, takes hold of the scruff of your blazer and drags you away from his godson out into the corridor.

'Both of you. My office.'

He demands and your heart is in your trachea, preventing you from breathing. If this goes the same way as your last meeting then your dad is going to find something out that will motivate him to kill. He'll rip you to pieces; make your life more of a living hell than it already is. You're on the verge of crying as you march to Pricey's office, Steven walking far more calmly next to you although you're sure that he senses your current emotions.

You shuffle into his office and take a seat, Steven perching next to you awkwardly and folding his hands underneath his thighs. Mr Price sits opposite but you dare not look at him, can't bring yourself to look into his eyes because he too holds a grudge against you, has always taken a disliking to you.

'Why the hell were you two in a storage cupboard? Good thing I saw you on the CCTV! Who knows, it could have been someone else that walked in on you!'

He starts yet neither of you answer his primary question. It was you who dragged Steven in there so it's more aimed at you yet you don't have the balls to answer.

'Okay... Let's go a bit deeper. Brady, why the hell were you in a clinch with _my_ godson?'

Before you can even attempt a phatic, pathetic answer, Steven jumps straight in with the defence.

'Keith... I mean, Sir...Me and Brendan are... I dunno... We're kinda... Okay what I am _trying_ to say is, you can't tell anyone about this, especially his dad. Please. This is confidential so you have no right to blast your mouth off. I know you're looking out for me but this is mine and Brendan's business. No one else's'

He's begging for you, is saving your ass and you gaze at him in awe as he protects your dignity, as he practically saves you from a beating and more verbal abuse.

'So... Are you and Brady...an item?'

Pricey questions yet an awkward silence descends because Steven has no idea what you are. You didn't confirm anything with him. If anything you pushed him away and admitted to playing him but that isn't your intention. You yourself have no idea what's going on because your head is all over the place but the boy is slowly becoming more of a necessity in your life, no matter how much you want to deny it.

'Me and Steven... We're... I don't know what we are... neither of us know what we are to each other. But if you really want to put a label on it...'

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, can't actually believe that you're about to say this but you have to if there's even a chance of the odds swinging in your favour.

'Me and Steven are kinda seeing each other okay? I don't want anyone knowing yet because I'm having a really hard time coming to terms with being...with being...'

You can't say the word, can't get it to roll off your tongue because there is something inside of you that is still in denial, that's telling you you're meant to be attracted to women and that what you and Steven are doing is wrong. It's the dark side, the black edge of your soul that is screaming at the top of its lungs, cursing at you and damning you to hell and you don't have enough power to block it out.

'Gay?'

Pricey finishes, so easy and open and you are green with envy because you wish you could just _say_ it, say that word and be comfortable with it.

'Urm... Yeah. So please... no matter how much you hate me... please just... don't tell my dad. Don't tell anyone. I know that what me and Steven were doing was... inappropriate and I know I'll never be good enough for him but please...'

You summon the courage to look up into the older man's eyes and what you see isn't what you expect. His face is soft, features less tense than they normally are and for once you can actually see the colour of his eyes rather than the deep red that normally possess them when you're in here due to the trouble you've caused.

'It's not my secret to tell. What happened stays within these walls but if I ever catch you two acting inappropriately again then you'll be excluded. That includes you Ste. You might be my godson but I have to treat you like any other student'

Steven nods in understanding and then gets to his feet. You mirror him and glance at the older man who still sits behind his desk with his hands folded in front of him. You dare a small smile of thanks and you're shocked when he returns it, a change from his face of thunder that he usually wears. You're about to take your leave when Mr Price says;

'Brady... You break Ste's heart, then I'll break your legs boy. Understand?'

His face is stern when you look at him again but his eyes still contain a comical banter. He resumes with some papers that lay in a pile on his desk and you both take your leave, breathing a sigh of relief when the door clicks shut. You lean against the wall feeling slightly light headed and Steven leans next to you, is conscious of the surroundings and knows not to touch you but the closeness is enough to calm you down.

* * *

When you arrive home you're welcomed by Seamus who, to your surprise, isn't in a drunken state tonight. He is, what you could call, sober. You walk into the kitchen absentmindedly and await the snide comments that lurk in the air, that you normally receive when you return home.

'You've got a shift tonight. Get a move on lad.'

He says as he finishes off a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, the crunching loud and amplified in your ears. Cheryl walks in with a beaming smile on her face and she gives your dad a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

'Actually... I told Paddy that I was going to the game tonight'

You mutter quietly and you watch as the fire begins to burn out of control in your dads eyes, a tick going off in his cheek and his limbs beginning to shake at your supposed back chat.

'Aww that's a great idea Bren. He deserves a night off doesn't he daddy? He's worked so hard lately'

Cheryl's high pitched voice cuts in, light and content and it snaps Seamus out of his death glare. He stutters over his words, has to keep his girl on his side so he reluctantly forces a smile and nods in agreement.

'Have a good time son'

He says, an underlying tone of sarcasm lurking there only it's so small that only you notice it, Cheryl remaining completely oblivious as usual to the tension that stems between the two of you. In a way, you are thankful for Cheryl's presence because it somehow works in your favour and you manage to get what you want, are able to gain her approval, something your father can't possibly deny.

You make your way out of the kitchen and up to your room while the deal is still done and you pick out a pair of black jeans with a blue denim shirt, something that's smart but casual so it blends into both of the environments that you're going to be in tonight.

You brush out the gel that was once in your hair and you re-style it, run your fingers through until it looks like an organised mess and you spray yourself in aftershave, ignore the slight burn of your pores. You want to drive Steven crazy tonight, want to have him begging for you like the first time.

You gaze at yourself in the mirror and think about the events that have occurred, how you handed yourself over to Steven on a silver platter, how you told him that love is non-existent, how you got caught. Little did you realise that Cheryl was standing in the doorway with a beaming smile on her face.

'What?'

You ask as you straighten yourself out in the mirror, unbuttoning your top button and folding down the collar so it reveals some of your chest.

'You look handsome. Trying to impress someone are we?'

She asks with a suggestive smile on her face as she waltzes in with her hands behind her back and eyebrows raised as if she has sussed you out. You chuckle at her insinuation and it's ironic because you are trying to impress someone, although that _someone_ is her best friend.

'No. I'm going to watch Paddy at the game and then we'll probably go out for a drink. If dad asks, I'm at his house for the night okay?'

She simply nods with her brows knitted together in suspicion, has learnt not to question why you request cover up's because she knows that you'll never tell her. It's not as if you require a cover up in all honesty because Seamus doesn't care about your location, never has. The only reason you make such an arrangement is so he has less reason to speculate and mock you upon return.

You give her a kiss on the head and pick up your leather jacket on the way out, don't bother wishing goodbye to your dad because you won't receive anything in return, maybe a mere grunt but no exchange of warning telling you to be weary of strangers etc. Not like a caring parent.

You walk down the hill towards the football field and when you arrive, you're suddenly drowning in a mass of people a lot of whom are relatives and/or friends of the players. You shove through some of the crowd, earn a push and a shove along the way until you reach the front where you can see a lot of the players warming up with small jogs and stretches. You spot Paddy within a second and he sprints over to you in his green shirt, white shorts and knee high socks.

'Didn't think you were gunna show up!'

He blasts, seems genuinely surprised that you actually stayed true to your word. You leak a smile at his obvious content and wish him luck when the referee calls them into position.

Football isn't your forte, nor are you particularly interested in it but Paddy has been a friend to you, your only friend and you feel the need to pay him back, to actually take interest in something that is of a genuine passion to him. You cheer him on when the ball is passed to him, scream his name in support as he weaves through players one at a time skilfully tapping the ball between their legs and sprinting after it, kicking it in the back of the net in one fluent movement to which the whole field erupts in cheer, you included and Paddy looks for you in the crowd, almost like he's searching for some sort of approval which you whole heartedly give.

The game is played and over in what seems like minutes, all of the players shaking hands in gratitude and showing true sportsmanship as they tap each other on the back in celebration. Your friend sprints over to you, dripping with sweat and covered in mud from where he'd made successful slide tackles and he's beaming through it all with heaving breaths.

'Was I good?'

He asks and it sounds barbaric to your ears because his team won 3-0, to which he scored every goal.

'Course you were! You won the game! Well done buddy. Look... Um... I'm sorry but I really have to go, I've gotta be somewhere but if my dad calls you, I'm staying at yours tonight okay? Cover for me?'

You ask and his smile doesn't falter for a second.

'Sure. Only because you came!'

He says, shooting you a small wink and running back into his team hug to celebrate the victory. You make your way out of the crowd and walk the short distance to Steven's house, the sun beginning to set along the coastline, rays shimmering and reflecting off the sea's surface.

When you reach your location it's Danny who opens the door to you, cold and venomous as usual and he still manages to scare you somewhat. You don't doubt his capabilities, what he could potentially do to you if angry enough. You see that as a similarity to yourself, something that you share. You can both be unpredictable in your behaviour, gain a psychotic strength when thrived on adrenaline.

'Hey'

You say in manner. Your father had taught you _something _correctly and you weren't short of pleasantries. He nods in welcome and tilts his head indicating for you to come inside which you do gladly, making your way past him into the living room where Steven sits in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees watching the T.V, Jamie, Liam and Kyle scattered around the room as well.

'Brendan's here'

Danny breaks with no such enthusiasm but it isn't with distaste either. Steven's head snaps in the direction of the doorway at the mention of your name, a smile spreading across his Bambi face when his eyes meet yours.

'You came!'

He squeals in excitement, jumping off of the sofa like an over excited child. He throws himself into your arms and you feel something like relief wash over you at the feel of his body against you again, his heat radiating through your cold clothes from your time standing in the winter air as you watched the football game.

'I said I would didn't I?'

You reply in a mumble against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his small and fragile frame. You inhale his scent, a mix of soap, deodorant and cigarettes although it isn't off putting. It's something you find intrinsically attractive. You've watched him on certain occasions, nearly dribbled at how the smoke leaked out of the parting in his mouth and slightly obscured his features.

'I'm heading over to Sarah's. See you lot later.'

Danny announces behind you and he receives a grunt from the others upon his leave. Steven untangles himself then and plants a long kiss on your lips and he has you hooked, disconnects the wires in your head and nearly makes you go overboard but you somehow manage to contain yourself, manage to refrain from picking him up and taking him to his room to shag his brains out. You pull away from him with an embarrassed smile on your face, still slightly uncomfortable at kissing the boy in front of other people.

'Don't worry about it mate. We've seen blokes make out before. No big deal'

Kyle reassures from the other side of the room, obviously witnessing your slight discomfort. He takes a sip of his beer and smiles kindly at you, is trying just as hard as you are to make amends on Steven's behalf.

You stare at Steven in confusion because you're sure he told you that he'd never really been with other guys before, never bought anyone home.

'Liam's Bi'

He confirms to which the man in subject glances up at the pair of you from his seating position on the floor. It isn't something you expected at all because Liam seems like a ladies' man due to his well groomed demeanour, his never ending attention to his appearance and constant references to women.

'That's me. I like sausage and tacos. Best of both worlds'

He says with conviction and pride, another thing that you envy. You wish you had that confidence.

'He's greedy'

Steven challenges yet Liam holds up his middle finger, too idle to drag his eyes away from the T.V again. You both chuckle and Steven takes hold of your hand, interlocks your fingers and leads you to the sofa. He then slaps Kyle's legs in what appears to be disgust.

'Get up so Brendan can sit down!'

He hisses, tries to state it in a whisper as to not embarrass himself in front of you and to not draw attention from the others.

'It's okay, I'll sit on the floor'

You say and Kyle nods at you in appreciation, accompanies it with a wink and it makes you chuckle, makes you feel like you're beginning to build bridges with Steven's _other family_. You get a sense of fulfilment; feel like your effort is beginning to pay off.

'No Bren... Kyle don't be rude! Sit on the floor with Liam'

Steven spits and he gives his friend another firm slap on the legs.

'Hey it's okay. Don't worry about it'

You tug on Steven's wrists and pull him so his chest is moulded against yours. You lock your fingers again and kiss him deeply, sneakily flick your tongue inside his mouth and you feel him melt against you, his body slackening.

When you pull away, you do so gently and sink to the floor, lean your back against the sofa and Steven sits behind you, his legs either side of you. Liam flicks over onto a film, a comedy of some sorts staring Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill. 21 Jump Street. You've never heard of it but you watch it none the less, see it only as courteous to watch their choice of film.

'Channing Tatum is so hot. My god'

Steven drools behind you and Liam nods in agreement, gawping at the man on the screen in awe and infatuation. Something stabs at a nerve ending inside of you, something you've never felt before but you're associating it with... jealousy. It's a strange feeling and it makes you fidget, makes you uncomfortable and question why you're feeling like this. Is it because Steven finds someone _else_ attractive? Is it because his attention has been drawn to someone other than yourself? You're taken aback by this emotion.

'You alright?'

Steven whispers, runs his hands down your shoulders and into the unbuttoned gap of your shirt, his warm fingers dragging over your exposed flesh.

'Mhm'

You hum with no conviction, have always failed at trying to hide your true emotions. The next minute you feel his breath in your ear, shallow and warm and it sends a shiver down your spine, causes your skin to prickle with goose bumps.

'You're not... jealous are you?'

He breathes, light with satisfaction and he sneakily nibbles on your earlobe. Your dick twitches as he scrapes your sensitive nerve ending with his canines and you have to refrain from letting out a grumble, from expressing this pleasure. He hooks two fingers underneath your jaw and tips your head backwards until you're looking at him upside down. He still looks beautiful though, all of his features nice and defined and sharp, eyes a beautiful coral blue like a Hawaiian ocean . He presses his lips to yours then, pushes his hands further inside your shirt and rubs his hands over your chest and stomach, cheekily pinches your nipples and scratches your feverish skin. He plays with the hairs on your chest as you start to tongue each other, an exchange of saliva and synced movement of lips with the occasional clash of teeth due to the awkward angle but it's one of the most amazing kisses you've ever had with him.

'Guys... As hot as that is... I'd really like to watch this film'

You and Steven stop kissing momentarily only to see Liam gawping at you with wide eyes, drool nearly spilling out of his mouth. It's strange yet satisfying being here and being around someone else who feels the same way as you do in a certain respect because you don't feel like you have to hide and you share a common ground with someone other than Steven. You can be yourself and let out every feeling and every emotion where as in the _comfort of your own home_ you feel trapped. It's oddly oxymoronic.

'Fuck off. You're such a perv'

Steven chuckles and he gets to his feet, hauling you up with him and taking hold of your hand, leading you out of the room towards the stairs.

'Keep it down up there! And don't get spunk on the sheets, they were clean on this morning!'

Jamie shouts after you both, crude and far from subtle and Steven stops half way up the stairs, his head dipping in embarrassment, shoulders shaking from his uncontrollable giggling. You get a flash of his face when he shouts back and it's a deep tone of pink, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead.

'Shut the hell up! Jesus Christ!'

He bends down to kiss you again, a way of easing your own embarrassment and you sweep him off his feet up into your arms, making your way to the landing and carrying him to his room.

You throw him down onto his bed and watch him bounce, his eyes dark and hooded with want, a bulge forming in his _and_ your own trousers at your shared arousal. Although, you want to go further this time, want to explore his body and what he likes, what he dislikes, give him some experiences that he'll never forget.

'You ever been rimmed before?'

You ask, kneeling at the foot of his bed and slowly crawling up to him until you're on top, straddling his thighs. You gently begin to rub him through his jeans and his head drops back into the soft mattress, lips parting, a low moan escaping.

'Answer the question Steven'

You coax and rub him a little harder, closing your hand around his erection and minutely moving your hips over his own, want to build up the friction, want to give him bits at a time and stop at a torturous point.

'N-No. Never'

He stutters, says it as if he has no idea what it is so you decide to challenge him on it.

'You wanna get rimmed to oblivion?'

He opens his eyes and looks at you with slight confusion and self stupidity, thinks he's an idiot for not knowing what it is but he is far from an idiot. He sees things in black and white, can see through any bull shit.

'You want me to show you?'

You ask as if reading his mind and he nods cautiously, is scared like any other person would be of the unknown. You lift your weight off of him and begin to tug down his trousers, launching them across the other side of the room and giving his rock hard dick some slick stokes, milking the pre-cum and gathering it on your fingers.

'Roll over, onto your front'

You demand and the boy does as he's told, sees no reason as to why he should lie on his front when his cock is what needs attending too but he does so anyway. You rub your hands all over his golden, peachy arse, squeeze the globes in your hands and give them an almighty slap. Steven flinches but lets out a masochistic sob afterwards, obviously loves it so you do it again, landing your palms in the same place and you watch as his skin begins to glow red with defined hand prints. His arse is beautiful, round and slappable, delectably squidgy.

With both hands you part his cheeks and reveal his tight hole, pink and puckered with light hairs scattered and it's so beautiful, has your mouth watering because you've never had such a perfect ass in all of your life. You spread the pre-cum fingers over his hole and he twitches, has never been touched in such a sensitive and private area but he obviously trusts you because he's not telling you to stop.

You lift up the back of his shirt and start to lick down his spine with the tip of your tongue, his cheeks still parted and you eventually get down to his crack. You hear his breaths being punched out of him, heavy and laboured and you slowly ghost your tongue over his entrance. He screams into the duvet, curses incoherently and takes fistfuls of the material into his hands, yanks and pulls and backs his arse against your face, evidently likes it and wants more, _needs_ more.

'Fuck!'

He spits when you pull your tongue away and he looks back over his shoulder at you, eyes bright and pupil blown and he looks fucking beautiful, has only been licked for about 10 seconds but he looks ruined.

'Do it again'

He says brusquely, lifting his hips up and throwing an arm backwards in an attempt to reach your head. You don't have the patience to tease him today, want to drown in his whines and moans, want to have him screaming your name and shooting cum over your hand; so you press the flat of your tongue back into his hole and lick him out harder and faster, force in the tip of your tongue and breach the entry of his tight rim.

You feel his fingers slither through your hair and he's pushing your head into his arse, wanting more of your tongue inside of him and the taste is delicious, tickling your taste buds and causing you to groan like a starving animal. You remove one hand from his cheeks and undo your trousers, slip it inside your boxers and start touching yourself, milk out the pre-cum and jolt at the minute orgasmic waves that surge through your synapses.

You slide in a finger next to your tongue and penetrate him, slip it down to the knuckle and curl it perfectly so you're rubbing on his spot which is still cleverly hidden yet it's easier to find this time and you take advantage of the fact that you know it's location. You rub against it firmly, have the boy wriggling and writhing beneath you as you lick him simultaneously.

'B-Bren... Please..'

He sobs, is on the verge of crying because it feels _too_ good, too good to handle and you're happy that you've degraded him into this mess. You quickly guide another finger inside so he stretches, to try and relax his tight muscle.

He outstretches a hand and opens the top draw of his bedside table, picks out a condom and tears it open with his teeth like a lion with meat. You exit your fingers and slip out of your trousers, allow your plush dick to spring free from the confines and you spread his legs so you fit in between, like your were molded to size especially.

'Slip it on my dick'

You say darkly, leaning your hips forwards towards him and he does just that, rolls on the condom and takes you down his throat with several bobs of his head, the heat of his mouth making your vision blurry, making your stomach flip and skin burn hot with fever. He licks around the head and takes every inch of you down his gullet, struggles like a lot of people and gags but that's because of your size. He does pretty well considering.

'Fuck. You're so big!'

He gasps when he releases you from his hot mouth, moving his hand to your balls and massaging like putty. You push the two fingers that were previously inside of him towards his mouth, want to see him lick between the instruments and groan at the flavour.

'Taste yourself'

You whisper as you push your fingertips to his lips but he avoids it, diverts his head and knits his brows together in disgust.

'No... That's gross!'

He protests, shaking his head vigorously as you try again.

'You taste gorgeous Steven. Please... It'll be so hot'

You want to see him do this as much as you want to fuck him, the head of your dick beginning to throb with need to be engulfed by his tight, wet heat. He continues to squeeze on your balls with one hand, the other trailing down the back of your thighs lightly. He takes a final look at your slicked fingers and slowly starts to open his mouth. Without hesitation you shove your fingers inside and push him back down into the mattress, smother your fingertips over his tongue.

'Suck them'

You order, leave no room for objection and he does, his face straightening out when he closes his lips around them, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He takes hold of your wrist and sucks on your fingers the way he did to your cock only moments ago, manoeuvres his tongue between them and moans in delight. You gawp at him, mouth wide open ready to catch flies because what you're witnessing is fucking hot. Steven sucking on his own juices.

You lower your hips and press the head of your pulsing dick to Steven's loosened hole, slowly enter him and allow him time to adjust to your size and proportions yet he continues sucking on your fingers, his face contorting and moans rolling off his tongue as you sink further into him.

'Fuck me Brendan, with everything you have'

He says as he starts chewing on your instruments, teeth marks indenting your skin. His wish is your command and you begin to thrust and gyrate, move your hips as fast as you can and aim to hit that beautiful spot that erupts his body like a wild volcano. You want lava to shoot, want to hear him rumble like the earth and growl like the core, have him in a beautiful, hot, fiery state, too hot to touch.

You pound into him, are pulled closer by Steven's hands that yank on your arse cheeks and dig into your sensitive back, although the pain is pleasurable in this situation, isn't bad enough to be objected to.

'So fucking tight Steven'

You say, your words exiting your mouth in time with your thrusts. You reach down to kiss him, want to drink his desperate whimpers down like whiskey, get drunk and intoxicated off of them until your head goes fuzzy like it's packed with cotton wool.

'Fuck Bren... I'm gunna...g-gunna...'

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence, is too overcome with the sudden intense build up of his orgasm, his pelvic muscles contracting violently. You take hold of his dick with your free hand and wank him off as fast as you can, fuck him through the drugged up high and watch him as he hallucinates. The veins in his neck bulge beneath his taught skin, sweat dripping down his neck as he tries to hold back his screams but failing miserably.

His body goes limp when he starts the come down but you still mercilessly and ruthlessly fuck into him and the ripple of his internal muscles causes the break out of the tingle, the cool burn and seconds later you're spunking harshly into latex, groaning loudly against Steven's sweat covered neck, your mouth dry and eyes glazed.

'Fuck Steven!'

Your hip actions go all out of sync, turn into a fucking mess just like you and you pull out regretfully, collapsing next to the boy with a number of twitches and whines.

Both of you are breathless, move with the remaining amount of energy until you're wrapped in each other's arms, mixing sweat and breathing the same oxygen. You've never felt so much comfort being this close to someone, having them enfolded in your embrace, protected and safe. You not only feel like a protector, like a guardian to this boy but you also feel _protected. _

He runs his fingertips over your displayed neck soothingly as your spasms come to a halt.

'Am I ever going to see you without a shirt?'

He asks and your whole body freezes. Your back is something that no one has ever seen. Steven did once by accident but you managed to successfully plant that seed of doubt in his mind. Your dad has seen it too, sees it as a memoir, a display board of some sorts. He sniggered when he last saw it, attempted to run his fingers down it as if proud but you'd pushed him away. You can't lie to the boy and make a promise stating that one day he'll _see_ you, _all_ of you, for what you _really_ are because that isn't a promise you can keep.

'Um... I don't know'

You mutter, are disappointed in yourself because this is a reminder of what you can't give him, a man that is fully confident in his body. It's something Steven wants, something that Steven needs and it's something that Steven deserves.

'That's okay. _If_ or _when_ you're ready. I won't push you to do anything'

* * *

You'd obviously fallen asleep because you're woken up by something wet on your bicep. The light is still on in the room and you're under the duvet now, your dignity covered thankfully. You look next to you and realize the thing that's wet is Steven's head pressed against your arm. He's dripping with sweat and it's absorbed into your shirt in a dark, circular patch that outlines the shape of his head.

'Jesus'

You murmur. He's burning up. His forehead is boiling to touch, is incredibly feverish and you wonder how he hasn't combusted with his temperature. You slide your arm out from underneath him and give it a few hard shakes because it's gone to sleep. You strip back the duvet and start fanning him with a book that you've nicked off of his book shelf, his hair fluttering in the small breeze. It's enough to make him stir and he brings his knee's up to his chest, looks like he's trying to insulate himself.

'W-What are you doing?'

He groans sleepily, opening his tired eyes and seizing the book off you gently.

'Your sweating buckets Steven and you're burning up.'

You say worriedly, lying down next to him and running a hand through his damp hair, are astonished when he pulls the duvet back over himself and shivers.

'It's freezing you muppet.'

'How the _hell_ can you be cold?!'

You gasp in bewilderment, touch your fingers to his forehead again just to check that your sense of temperature_ is_ correct and you aren't going crazy.

'I always get night sweats. Have done for ages, I'm sorry this is probably really gross. I'll go take a shower'

You flick your gaze at the time.

3:30am.

'No. No go back to sleep. It's okay'

You smile reassuringly and he's thankful that you've said so, looks too tired to even move a limb. His eyes wonder shut again and he pulls you down next to him, snuggles back into his previous position.

'I'll cool down in a minute. I'm sorry'

He says, his voice high and tired like a dazed six year old. You stroke his shoulders and whisper _don't be sorry_ in his ear, because he doesn't need to be sorry. You won't show him your back but you're starting to feel less ashamed about that because he's accepted you for who you are, not what you look like. You are the same, everyone has their faults, everyone apart from Steven. This isn't a fault, far from it, although it gets you thinking, worried almost because night sweats shouldn't be as severe as this. It shocks you that Steven didn't notice, didn't feel it trickling down his neck or dampening his hair. You don't worry about it now though, are too tired too and you expect everyone has gone to sleep so you do the same, sneakily setting an alarm on Steven's clock because you have to get up in a few hours to run home, get changed and go to school.


	14. Chapter 14

**Ste's P.O.V**

You wake up the next morning with a start, the sound of your alarm blazing in your ears, loud in comparison to the silent morning. No such light shines through your blinds, it's still dark because it's that time of year and it makes you all the more tired.

'Fuck'

You whimper, rolling over and fumbling about with every item on your bedside table until you slap down the snooze button on your alarm. You stretch out your limbs and make small noises like a baby dinosaur and it's only then that you realize that your bed is empty. You run your hands over the mattress in search of _his_ warm body but the rest of the bed is cold.

'Bren?'

You sit up in bed and search the room yet receive no response. Your heart sinks because he promised he'd spend the night with you and he hasn't. He's upped and left, buggered off back home or where ever he's gone.

'Fuck sake'

You curse in annoyance, throwing back the duvet violently and cringing at the wet patch on your sheet caused by your horrendous night sweat. Maybe that's why he left, because he was disgusted by this _issue_ that you've suffered with for over a year now. You hop out of bed and strip it of the clean sheets that Jamie applied only yesterday, leaving them in a pile on the floor while you run and grab a shower before school, quickly brushing your teeth in the process.

You trot down the stairs in a fresh shirt , your tie loose around your neck, blazer slung over your shoulders and trousers loose around your waist, hair still wet and you're met by Jamie and Kyle who are sat around the kitchen table slurping on tea. You stop abruptly when you see that Brendan is _also_ sat at the table nursing a cup of tea and feasting on some toast.

'Morning'

He croons, getting to his feet when he spots you and encircling you with his muscular arms.

'I-I thought you'd left'

You stutter, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders in disbelief and staring deep into his blue eyes that are, for once, open and content, aren't shadowed in defence and hiding.

'I had to run home about an hour ago to get my bag and uniform. I would have woken you up but you were out for the count'

You exhale in relief, feel somewhat reassured that you haven't scared him off, that he hasn't abandoned you because he's found a fault. He smiles and greets you with a minty morning kiss, his lips warm from the tea he was sipping, his tongue sweet as it runs along your lip.

'Guys... we heard enough of that last night. You really need to learn the meaning of the word quiet'

Kyle whines, downing the rest of his tea and attending to the toast that has popped out of the toaster. You turn your head shyly and bury it in Brendan's large chest, undo a couple of buttons so his flesh is exposed and you kiss the centre before doing them back up.

'Jay... Um... I had another...another...'

You trip over your words, are overcome by some sort of shame and Brendan's arms tighten around you instinctively, make you feel protected, shielded. Jamie stares at you with a blank and gormless expression until realization spread across his face when you give him a certain look, not wanting to say it out loud.

'Another one?! Jesus you really need to see a doctor. It's not normal!'

He blasts, stuffing down another piece of toast that Kyle's put in front of him, crunching away loudly in was appeared to be annoyance.

'Oh, well thanks for making me feel like a freak! It's not as if I can help it!'

You vociferate at his unreasonable complaint, thought that he would be one of the main people who'd understand, yet it is Brendan who has been the most supportive. His arms tighten around you a little more and he presses his warm lips to your forehead. You can tell he's getting protective, is close to exploding and fighting this battle for you; a characteristic similar to Danny.

'No Ste, I didn't mean it like that and you know it. You need to stop being so fucking stubborn and go to a doctor. They'll give you tablets or something.'

Jamie attempts to reason, licking his fingers and ridding of the crumbs from his toast. You understand what he means, see his point of view but _you _see no point in going to your G.P. They'll probably shrug you off and say that you get too hot in bed.

'I'll go _eventually._ If it carries on...'

'Ste... You've had them for _over_ a year...'

Your debate is interrupted by the entry of Danny. He walks through the door airily, makes a dramatic entrance with a huge smile on his face, cheeks pink from the cold morning air.

'Morning campers!'

He says, skipping over to yourself and Brendan and giving you both a long, wet kiss on the cheek. All of you are in shock, Brendan especially because Danny has never acted like this, never showed a hint of warmth towards him. He looks at you as if Danny has gone crazy, ludicrous, is gazing at you in search of any answers you may have but you can't provide them.

'Are you pissed?'

Kyle asks, says what everyone is thinking as he butters more toast for himself, placing a teabag into Danny's cup and flicking on the kettle.

'Today is a good day my friends... Sarah's pregnant! I'm gunna be a dad!'

Danny squeals, a beaming smile still spread across his face and all of you gasp in unison. Kyle halts with his buttering and jumps on him, gets him into a headlock and rubs his knuckles against the crown while Jamie slides over the counter and brings him into a brotherly hug.

'Oh my god... Oh my god...Uncle Ste. What do you think?'

You ask, looking up into Brendan's eyes and he stares back, lets out a low chuckle and pretends to consider, tilting his head from side to side and squinting as if conflicted.

'Uncle _Steven _sounds better.'

He croons, kissing you once again mid smile while the others continue to play fight, shouting in protest and teasing the dad to be. Danny's happiness has rubbed off on you, finally something has gone his way and he deserves it after everything he's been through. He's had a hard life, running away with his brother and being put into foster care although he thankfully wasn't separated from him, hence the reason they're so close. They're each other's everything, are closer than any other set of twins.

You untangle yourself from Brendan's arms and tear your lips away from the sweet kiss to give Danny a hug, are just as excited as he is about the news.

'Nice one mate. You'll be a great dad'

You compliment, weren't intentionally making a dig at the hopeless and vile father that Danny and Jamie share but the older man's eyes glaze over with tears that are _more_ than joy. You've reminded him of his past, of the brutality that he went through every day for years until he'd had enough. He smiles though, sees the past as something that's happened but it's made him the man he is today, a good man with a fiancé who is having his child, is surrounded by people who love him.

'Congratulations'

Brendan says courteously, accompanies it with a small and mannered smile which Danny returns with appreciation.

'Thank you'

He turns slightly cold when acknowledging Brendan's presence, seems to finally realize and regret the fact that he kissed him on the cheek in his moment of happiness and celebration. You can still see the dislike yet it contrasts with the effort that he's putting in on your behalf. You envy him for that, how he's swallowing down his pride like the others have done.

'Right well... I'd better be off to meet Paddy. You'd better get a move on unless you want to be walking to school without Cheryl.'

Brendan says, pulling you by the wrists back into his warm chest and kissing you on the forehead in farewell.

'I'll see you at the pub tonight yeah?'

You say, chewing on your bottom lip seductively, unsure on whether you'll be able to control yourself around him, although you know that you _have_ to, promised that you'd keep this a secret especially from his father. You've seen firsthand what he can do, what he's capable of, have been up close to Brendan's black eyes and seen the misery that lurks beneath. The worry flashes over his face as it falls into a neutral expression. The fear of his father finding out is evident and you can see he's scared, is afraid of the inevitable consequences that you both know will be severe. He's cutting you off, sinking and falling into the abyss and you have to catch him.

'I'll be on my best behaviour. I promise.'

He smiles at your certainty, obviously feels a little bit reassured by your understanding. You won't push him to tell anyone, think it'd be selfish and heartless if you did and considering the circumstances, you need to be supportive because you know what it's like being beaten to a pulp by a drunk of a father. You've experienced how tough it is to let go, to say _fuck it_ and leave. Everyone has a breaking point and Brendan hasn't reached his yet.

He gives you a final kiss and whispers _see you later_ against your lips before taking his leave, earning a nod and comment of departure from everyone else apart from Danny, although he didn't expect it and neither did you.

'Where's Liam?'

Danny asks, obviously wants to break the news to him as well.

'He's gone to work. Speaking of which, I'd better be off too. See you lot later.'

Kyle too ups and leaves, taking his toast along with him and transferring his tea into a small polystyrene cup as it's 'more portable' for his journey.

'I'm gunna bring them sheets down before I go and get Cheryl'

You announce, hopping up the stairs two at a time and jogging to your room, gathering the sweat covered sheets in your arms and you're about to come down again when you hear Jamie and Danny whispering discretely. You halt in an instant. It's hard for you to make out what they're saying so you kneel to the floor and concentrate with all of your might, try to piece some of the words together to create a coherent sentence.

'...That wasn't Brendan's fault come on...Ella wouldn't like you taking it out on him though, he had nothing to do with it...Well he's a part of Ste's life now so you're going to have to get used to him...'

Jamie was actually fighting in Brendan's corner, something you never thought you'd see or hear but it's a pleasant surprise and what he says is true. Brendan _is_ a part of your life now and if you're honest, you don't think it's going to change.

The mention of Ella strikes at the heart of you. She was their younger sister, a few years younger than you. Yourself, Danny, Jamie, Liam and Kyle all witnessed her death; a hit and run just over 10 years ago, when you were only 7 years old. She died aged 4 and ever since, all of you have avoided talking about her despite the fact that she's in a number of photos that stand on the mantel piece in the living room. To Danny, she is an incredibly touchy subject.

Why would he be linking her death to Brendan though? He would have been 8 years old, far too young to drive a car. You contort your face in confusion and try to make a link but struggle to find one, find anything that seems rational. Then, a distinct possibility hits you like a hammer between the eyes. You can't believe that you didn't see it before, didn't make the connection between Danny's hatred for Brendan _and_ his cold behaviour towards Cheryl.

'Ste! Hurry up you'll be late!'

Danny calls and you snap out of your trance, giving your head a small shake and gathering the sheets in your arms once again.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You take a deep breath, try to calm the erratic beating of your heart and rub your forehead with the back of your hand to rid of the thin layer of sweat that's gathered there. You're stood outside of Mr Price's office, trembling minutely due to your nerves but you can't deny him this right, this knowledge of his godson that you possess.

You pluck up the courage and knock on the door with your locked fist, hear the muffled _come in _work its way through the wood and you exhale deeply before entering. Mr Price is surprised to see you, does a double take and his eyes widen slightly as he comes to an abrupt halt with writing after school detentions.

'Sir'

You say politely out of manner and you take a seat in front of his desk.

'Brendan. What can I do for you?'

He called you Brendan, actually addressed you by your forename and it sounds strange, all of the time you've been here he's always called you Brady. You suppose his change of register is because you're involved with Steven intimately now and are bound to have some sort of involvement with each other outside of school as well as in.

'Um... I need to talk to you about Steven.'

You mutter with your hands folded in front of you, palms all sweaty and skin prickling under his glare. He nods for you to continue, now knows that this conversation isn't going to be phatic or a waste of time.

'I was with him last night and I slept over-' You shift your gaze slightly when you say that, feel a little awkward letting this man into your personal life. He may be Steven's godfather but that doesn't make _you_ feel any more at ease. '-I woke up in the middle of the night because he was burning up and he told me that he gets these really bad night sweats and has done for over a year. I don't just mean he gets a_ little_ sweaty, I mean he's _literally_ dripping in it and the guys he lives with said he should go to a doctor but he shrugged it off. We work at the same place as well and it's on a little hill. Every time he comes in he's breathless but the hill isn't even that big and a couple of weeks ago he collapsed. He won't listen to any of us so I guess... I hoped you'd talk to him, tell him to get checked out or something...'

You trail off towards the end because Mr Price's face has drained of all colour, is ashen like a corpse and his lips look suddenly dry. He swallows down a lump that has obviously risen in his throat and tries to clear his airway of the obstruction, hooking a finger into his collar and pulling lightly as if it's too tight around his neck.

'Sir? Are you okay?''

You ask, have to physically drift your face into his eye line to snap him out of it. He looks scared, gulping down harshly and cracking his knuckles.

'Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Not feeling too good is all. I'll talk to him. Thank you Brendan, for telling me'

He looks truly sincere, his eyes kind although his smile is fake. You know it all too well, have seen it on him before and you've done the same, have used that type of smile to try and stop people from digging any further into your life, into uncovering anymore truths.

'You're welcome'

* * *

You don't see Steven for the rest of the day. His absence at lunch suggests that Pricey has pulled him into his office and talked to him about going to the doctors. You have a bad feeling, are starting to regret telling Mr Price something that wasn't your secret to tell and you wonder whether karma is going to come round and bite you on the arse, whether Steven will lose it and blurt out what you and him have been up to.

You walk home on your own with the fear lodged in your mind, the scenario of Steven revealing what you are in front of the whole school and it making its way back home to your father and Cheryl.

When you walk through your front door you're met by Cheryl and Danielle, Paddy's little sister. They're on the sofa, giggling about some hot guy that's in their maths class, typical teenage girls. You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom, disinterested. You halt in an instant when you see Seamus sat on your bed running his fingertips over your duvet cover as if mesmerized by it.

'What are you doing in here?'

You spit, don't care if it's disrespectful because this is _your_ room, the place that you're meant to feel safe and you feel like security has been breached. Although, this is the place that holds all of the nightmares, where it first began.

'This is my house. I can be wherever I like boy. Watch your tone'

He gets up off the bed and strides towards you, leaves you with no choice but to retreat with the fear that you're going to get a smack. Your back hits the draws with a thud, the wood digging painfully into your scars and you wince at the stabbing sensation, at how it's caused a chain reaction and now your entire back is tingling.

'I'm sorry... Please...'

You whisper instinctively, the natural begging rolling off your tongue in the hope that it'll stop him from hurting you.

'I'm off to the races. Got a good feeling about my horse. You're gunna run the pub tonight and if it isn't in the same state that I left it when I get back, you'll be paying the price boy. Make sure my princess gets to bed on time'

His body is pressed against yours, breath heavy in your face and you can make out the distinct smell of whiskey and cigarettes. He won't be home tonight, never is when he has a 'good feeling'. You dread it because Cheryl will be whining at you in worry for all of the time he's gone. It'll be you who will have to wipe away her tears, comfort her when there is always a good chance he's lying in a gutter beaten to death because he's violent and argumentative when drunk. You've been the victim of it for years.

He wonders out of the room without a care in the world, bounces down the stairs and says goodbye to Cheryl and Danielle. When you hear the door slam shut you release a breath that you didn't realize you were holding, relieved that he's gone and you'll be without his presence for at least 3 days, all of which you _want_ to spend with Steven but Cheryl will need you.

You take off your blazer, tie and school shirt, fold them neatly into a pile and place them on your desk. You pour some oil onto your back before the shift starts, more precautionary than anything because the stabbing becomes unpredictable. You then throw on your black work shirt, and make your way downstairs with your leather jacket in hand.

'Chez... I'm off to the pub. Do your homework and I want you in bed by 10pm. Here's some money, order you and Danielle a pizza or a Chinese or something. I'll be back by midnight'

You delve into your back pocket and pull out a £20 note, some emergency money that you carry around with you in case it's needed.

'Thanks Bren. Can Danielle sleep over?'

Cheryl asks as she jumps off the sofa and snatches the money out of your hand, fumbling around in some draws for pizza and Chinese menu's.

'Um... I dunno...'

'Come on, Da's out so he'll never know. She has all of her stuff with her... Please?'

Danielle sits awkwardly on the sofa, a small and innocent smile on her face. She's a spitting image of Paddy, has the same brown eyes and cheekbones, the same button nose and the same shaped lips although her features are more defined and feminine, her long brown hair sitting on her shoulders in loose curls.

'Fine'

You say reluctantly, can't be bothered to get into a petty argument of how you'd be the worst brother in the world if you said no. She throws her arms around you in delight and gives you a big wet kiss on the cheek.

'Ew... That's gross'

You say, pushing her gently off of you and wiping your cheek with the cuff of your shirt. Her being happy is a main priority to you and you couldn't possibly deny her anything. You'd give her the world if you could and that's a characteristic that you unfortunately share with your father.

She ushers you towards the door, obviously wants you gone so she can gossip with her friend in private and you are more than happy to leave, quickly grabbing the keys to the pub before your departure and running through the standard procedure of _not answering the door to strangers, not picking up the phone unless you know the number and getting to bed on time._ All of the typical clichés.

The walk to the pub takes about five minutes and when you reach the doors you rummage in your pocket for the keys, end up having to take everything out and laying it in your palm. They're mixed in with a number of coins, a battery, some screws, nuts, bolts and a mini screwdriver. You've never been one for emptying out your pockets, hence the reason the washing machine has broken on a number of occasions. You don't know how half of these objects found their way into your pocket in the first place.

You're about to slip the key into the lock when you hear a shout come from the bottom of the hill.

'Oi!'

You turn and see Steven making his way towards you, his cheeks pink and eyes blazing with the fire that you feared would spark because of your deceit.

'Why did you tell Keith about... last night? You had no right saying anything!'

He barks, pointing his finger and flailing his arms in anger, going over the top like he usually does when he's angry, although a small part of you can't help feeling turned on at a time like this. You love this side of him, the one with flaming red, the attitude, the anger.

'I know... I know, I'm sorry okay but he deserves to know.'

Steven's out of breath by the time he reaches the top of the hill, his breaths heaving in and out, sweat gathering on his forehead. You gaze at him in bewilderment, wonder how he could possibly be tired from such a small angled hill. You reach out a hand to try and support him but he moves away from your touch, gives you a look that could kill, doesn't think he needs your help or anyone else' for that matter.

'You okay?'

He's wobbling on his feet, is having to blink multiple times to clear his obscured vision. The anger has left him now, the pink in his cheeks exchanged for a pale white and he looks as if he's going to vomit.

'I gotta stop smoking'

He giggles modestly, has to lean against the wall to support himself for a little longer. You take this opportunity to apologise, understand why he's angry but you had your reasons and deep down you think he sees that, comprehends your actions but doesn't condemn them.

'I'm sorry. He _had_ to know. He cares about you just like the rest of us'

You say gently, hooking two fingers under his chin and forcing him to look at you. His eyes are softer now, are open to looking at you and he nods reluctantly, can obviously see that you are in the right. The colour flushes back into his cheeks when he smiles, the rosy red returning and his breaths get shallower until they are back to normal. He pushes himself away from the wall after his momentary exhaustion and untangles the keys from inside of your palm, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

'We open in an hour and it looks like last night's staff have re-stocked pretty much everything. The barrels are full, fridge is full, glasses are clean. Probably just need to give the tables a once over and then everything's sorted'

You say, taking a wonder behind the bar and searching for little things that may need to be done, little things that your father is likely to pick up on. You peer over at Steven and watch him lock the door, the key turning slowly beneath his fingers and he watches you the whole time with dark, shadowed eyes. You know what's going to happen, where it might lead but the darker and more seductive he gets, the weaker you become.

'What are you doing?'

You ask, making your way to the front of the bar and taking a seat on one of the stools.

He doesn't answer.

Instead he stalks towards you with long, dragged strides, removes his jacket and drops it to the floor, lets it pool at his feet like water and he lifts his shirt over his head, reveals his toned, golden body.

A lump rises in your throat at his stunning beauty, the indents of his ribs on show and his bony hips jutting out against his trousers, his taught abdominals and velvet skin looking delectable.

He forces open a gap between your legs and slips into it, runs his hands up your chest and over the peak over your shoulders until he's pressed against you, close and warm and practically claustrophobic but this room has never felt so big, so open and it makes you want Steven closer. You loop a finger into the top of his trousers and pull him into you, run your hands over his peachy arse and up his perfectly smooth back. You draw his upper body into you and press your lips against his collar bones, work your way along until your tongue is in the dip of his throat, licking up and over his Adam's apple until you reach his plush lips.

'Take my shirt off'

You whisper, your heart thudding in your ears because this is you revealing all to Steven, letting him in further than anyone else has ever gotten before. If you don't do this now then you don't think you ever will but you feel like you can do it, feel like you've suddenly gained an external strength that's willing you to do so.

'What?... No... you don't have to. Only when you're -'

'I am... I'm... I'm ready'

You say with as much certainty as you can, can't go back on it now. He stares at you with glazed eyes, a small curl forming in the corner of his mouth.

'You sure?'

He asks, planting a small kiss on your lips and you simply nod your head in affirmation, want him to see you for _who_ and _what_ you are, need to know that he won't run away.

He slowly undoes your top button, is giving you the opportunity to back out if you change your mind. He watches you, his eyes still dark and pupil blown as he works the buttons open, slowly revealing your chest and stomach.

'Wow'

The boy drools, tugging on your hand indicating for you to stand and you do so willingly, your skin twitching at the feel of his warm fingers brushing over your body. He touches his lips to the centre of your chest, in exactly the same place as he did this morning.

'Are you sure you want me to see?'

He asks wearily, obviously doesn't think that you're ready for this but you're certain that you are. You turn 180 degrees so your back is facing him, shuffle on your feet slightly and inhale a deep breath, wipe away the sweat that has formed on your brow and say;

'Just do it'

You leave him with no choice, will take it off yourself if you have to and force him to look at the thing that makes you ugly. His thin fingers hook underneath the material of your shirt by your shoulders and your heart is hammering inside of your chest, so loud you're sure he can hear it too. Questions fill your mind, screams of protest. _What if he thinks you're a disgrace?_

_What if he runs away? You don't deserve him anyway._

He drags your shirt down over your back, exposes the dark secret that lies beneath and you hear him gasp in horror, feel him let go of your shirt and hear him take a few steps back.

'Jesus Christ'

He spits and you sink your head between your shoulders, are disgusted with yourself in thinking that he'd stick around when he can do so much better, when he deserves perfection, something that you are miles away from.

'Can... Can I touch it?'

Before you can answer he already is, his finger tips sliding over the individual scars, dipping every so often into the ones that are deep and concaved.

'Why does it hurt?'

He asks with curiosity, his whole palm now flattened against your shoulder blade, the other ghosting by your lower back.

'It doesn't. _I_ just _think_ it does.'

You mutter in response, thinking you sound pathetic because this isn't just physical scarring, it's mental as well. The burning is psychological and you think that the oil is helping but it isn't. You feel at peace when you put it on though so you continue to do it, continue to steal money bits at a time out of Seamus' wallet so you can continue to buy it.

'How did it happen?'

The next thing you feel is his lips against your skin, small, warm kisses being dotted over the more serious scars, his warm hands still trailing over the contours and you've never felt anything so soothing, so accepting. He's obviously intrigued, won't stop kissing your imperfection and drifting his fingers over it. You see no point in hiding how it happened, have already shown him the damage so you may as well reveal the cause.

'My dad liked to use me as his own personal ash tray. He... He stubbed cigarettes out on me'

You say bluntly, don't feel emotional when telling him. You're only questioning, asking the same thing over and over again like you have done for the past ten years, almost like a broken record.

Why did he pick you?

Steven's breath hitches, his nails refraining from digging into your skin because of his risen anger. His kisses get a little harder, a way of repressing his emotions and stopping himself from exploding, from undoubtedly taking hold of the nearest stool and launching it out of the window.

'You're beautiful Brendan'

He whispers shakily, warm against the back of your neck and his tongue drifts across your shoulder blades, obviously thinks that he can lick away the scars, lick away what your father has done to you like the snake who can cure blindness with a flicker of his tongue.

'I'm disgusting. It makes me ugly.'

You reply because it's true. Your own stomach churns when you catch sight of it in the mirror, some of the scars being vicious and irritated and red, the others more faded due to their age, indented white and forever embedded on your skin.

You're about to put your shirt back on, don't want the boy to be anymore disturbed than he already is but suddenly you're whirled around and pushed back against the bar, Steven on his tip toes and in your personal space.

'You're stupid Brendan. So _fucking_ stupid in thinking that I'd care, thinking that it'd make a difference'

He blasts, slapping your shoulders with force, obviously wants to beat those thoughts out of you with his fiery attitude. He isn't hitting you hard, is only releasing his frustration. He's angry that you don't think you're good enough.

But you aren't.

Are you?

'But I'm-'

'No! No you're not okay? This doesn't make you ugly. It makes you, you. And_ you_ are beautiful. It's your dad that is a sick fuck. He's the one that's ugly, that's disgusting and he's tried to rub it off on you because you are amazing, are everything that he isn't. With or without these scars, you are _perfect._'

He makes that imperative by viciously kissing you before you can protest, before you can sink yourself lower into the ground. You drive your body into his, want to actually _feel_ the skin on skin contact that you've been depraved of, feel his warmth, his silky smooth skin, feel _him_.

Your bodies touch so intimately, wet and hot and sticky from the heat but never have you felt so alive, felt so treasured in having a body this close, not knowing where you begin or end. You sweep him up by the thighs and lie him down on the bar, use the stool next to you as leverage to haul yourself up on top of him, chest on chest and his hands still stroke your back delicately, careful not to scratch or pinch.

He shimmies out of his trousers and throws them on top of his jacket, his dick hard and plush, leaking with pre-cum and you gawp at him as his hand slides between his legs. He's working himself open, fingering deep down to the knuckle and his face is contorting, jaw dropping, eyes rolling into the back of his head. You're instantaneously turned on, a wave of blood and adrenaline and hormones surging through you and pulsing to your dick.

'Fuck me Bren'

He says, shoving a condom into your hand, not once diverting from stretching himself. You chuckle because he obviously had this planned, wanted you to shag him before the shift started but you're not going to complain, would be ludicrous if you did.

He tugs at your trousers with his free hand, is desperate for you to be inside of him already and you don't have the patience to tease him, to torture him from refraining his needed pleasure so you climb out of your trousers and hurtle them behind the bar. You roll one the condom and slowly slide your fingers in next to his, curl them perfectly so they're rubbing on his sensitive gland and it causes him to scream, the artery in his neck bulging and sweat glistening his body.

He looks tortured, his hair dripping, knuckles white and eyes forced closed as you rub and finger him. It's too good for him to handle, is a delectable pain for you to watch.

'Please... Bren...Please'

He sobs, his fingers curling around your wrist, begging for you to stop. You've got him at the edge of the cliff, exactly where you want him and how you like him, so you pull out your fingers, slap his hand away and quickly spit on his hole as a way of lubricating. You plunge straight in, already have him loose and stretched and his head lolls back against the bar, his arms around your waist and aiding with the movement, the delicious gyration. He's hot and wet and his insides are still tight around you, the muscles of his rim so achingly constricted.

You reach down to kiss his neck, to bite on his pulse point and suck on the sensitive spot just behind his ear, the point that has him writhing, that makes him choke out an elongated groan. His fingers thread through your hair, pull and yank and grab and he's a fucking mess, sweating and writhing and circulating his hips whilst kissing your shoulders, sinking his teeth into your flesh.

You suck on the fingers he used to open himself up with, circulate the instruments with your tongue and moan at the palatable taste that slides down your throat, which brings back memories of the first time you rimmed him.

He delves his hand between your sweaty bodies and takes hold of himself, is obviously close so you start to let go, the screams that roll off his tongue vibrating through your body and down your spine. You kiss him into silence, drink down his excruciated whines and animalistic cries as he spunks over his stomach and hand, his inner muscles rippling and tightening around you as he twitches and you release your load viciously, chew on his bottom lip hard until you start the come down, until you've ridden out your intense orgasm.

You don't have the energy to climb off him so instead you rest your head on his chest, your head rising and falling in time with his breathing. His heart is hammering but it's beautiful, loud, so full of life and it's a reminder that he_ is_ here, with _you. _He hasn't run away, abandoned you like many others have.

* * *

You're swept off your feet when you open up, have a line of men waiting to be served waving notes in front of your face. No doubt a set up by your father to ensure that you're hard at work. But you manage to get through the night without any complaints, which is surprising seeing as you were staring at Steven for most of the night, gazing at the spot on the bar where you'd fucked him.

The night is over in a blink of an eye, everyone gone and it's just you and Steven again, cleaning down tables, filling up barrels, restocking the fridge with beers and cleaning glasses. He keeps glancing over at you with a smile on his face, obviously sharing your dirty thoughts.

'What are you smirking at?'

You ask, wiping down the length of the bar. He finishes cleaning the last table and wonders over to you, takes a seat on a stool and grins.

'Nothing. Just thinking... It was only a couple of hours ago that you were balls deep inside of me. Right here'

He rubs his palm over a particular spot on the bar and looks at you suggestively, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

'No... Not again'

You say sternly, continuing to wipe down the surfaces and rid of the sticky alcohol stains. His face falls with disappointment so you reach over and give him a tentative kiss before getting back to your duties, needing to get home soon to check on Cheryl and make sure she's in bed. You also need to make sure that the house isn't in a state, that she hasn't left pizza boxes on the living room floor and glasses stacked in the sink.

'Bren?'

'Hmm?'

You flick your gaze to Steven quickly and see that he's deep in thought, like he's debating with himself on whether to tell you something. You halt your actions, don't want him to think you're dismissing him by continuing, by acting disinterested.

'What is it?'

You ask, walking to the front of the bar and sitting on a stool next to him.

'I heard Danny and Jamie whispering earlier... about you... It was just after you left...'

He pauses for a moment and glances at your face, wants to see that you're not angry. But why would you be? They have every right to talk about you, to see whether you're good for Steven and his future. They are an important feature in his life, should have every say.

'They mentioned Ella. She was their little sister who was killed 10 years ago'

'Jesus... I'm sorry...'

You gasp, see now that they have a reason to be cold towards people, to be conscious of everyone who's walking in and out of their life. They have even more reason to be hateful to you because of what you've done, the pain you've caused and the potential outcome of the beatings you've given the boy.

'She died in a car accident, got hit by a drunk driver... a hit and run basically but the person was never caught...'

What is he saying? Why would they associate you with killing their sister? You would have been 8 years old for Christ sake. You scrunch up your face in confusion at the ludicrous accusation. Surely Steven doesn't believe that?

'They think _I _killed her? Jesus Steven come on... You can't believe that I'd...'

He cuts you off by talking over you, by shaking his head vigorously.

'No No...They aren't just funny with you. They're funny with Cheryl too... It wasn't _you _that killed her... It was your dad'


	15. Chapter 15

**Ste's P.O.V**

You stare at Brendan's face, his jaw nearly touching the floor and eyes wide like he's had a psychological point of insight. Apparently everything makes sense due to this revelation because he's nodding minutely. Is that because he believes you? Or because he thinks you're completely mad?

'My dad...'

He stutters and you nod reluctantly, feel awful at having to be the one to tell him that his dad _killed_ a little girl, that his dad is a murderer, or a man slaughterer or whatever he is. Even if there is bad blood between them, he's got to be devastated, can't possibly believe you and you'd understand if he flipped his lid right here, right now, wouldn't blame him if he threw you out for putting 'Killer' next to Seamus' name.

'H-How do you know? Are you sure?'

You nod again, were told by Danny and Jamie earlier this morning when you'd come downstairs with your bed sheets, couldn't possibly refrain from delving deeper because her death had been a mystery to you for over a decade. You'd been kept in the dark when all along they'd known and you couldn't help feeling somewhat betrayed.

'Yeah. I'm sure. I confronted Danny and Jamie and they kinda just... spilled everything. Danny told me that he'd never forgotten the drivers face. He had nightmares for years, proper night terrors and then when your dad dropped off Cheryl to mine one time a few years back, after we'd first met, Danny nearly went mental. He trashed the house, scared the shit out of Cheryl.'

'I-I'm sorry'

Brendan says, his brows knitting together.

'Why are you saying sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. It wasn't your fault'

You rest a hand on top of his, intertwine your fingers slowly and want to make that point imperative. Danny has no real reason to be angry with Brendan, apart from the beatings he gave you, but you've put that behind you, could never believe that he'd hit you again.

'I'm saying it... on my dad's behalf I guess'

He mutters, squeezing on your fingers in apology but again, that isn't his job. Seamus is a low life, a piece of scum who doesn't deserve to have Brendan and Cheryl as children. What he did to Brendan... it makes your blood boil, makes you want to batter him until he's on deaths door, stub cigarettes out on _him,_ seek out revenge.

'Don't. Don't apologise... but...there's something else...'

He looks up at you in curiosity, is slightly on edge with scepticism.

'I don't know if I can work here anymore. What you told me about your dad... and how he hurt you... I just can't be around him because I'll lose it-'

He shakes his head vigorously, takes both of your hands into his and cuts you off abruptly, can't bear to listen to this.

'No. No you can't leave me. Please Steven... Don't leave me on my own... I can't be here without you... No...'

He's panicking, obviously scared of what his dad will do to him if you're not here and that tells you everything you need to know. Seamus is dangerous, more so than you already thought and Brendan is petrified of him. You can't leave him, not when he's _stayed,_ with you, stayed despite the fact that he's had reason to leave. You shuffle off your stool and take him into your arms. He buries his face in your neck and holds you close, doesn't want to let go, is refusing to let you walk out on him.

'Okay... It's okay... I won't leave you. I'll _never _leave you'

You croon, stroking your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead.

'Promise?'

He murmurs against you, taking a fistful of your shirt into his hands, needs to hear you say it, needs that reassurance.

'I promise. But you need to promise me something as well.'

This needs to be a compromise, you want things too. You pull away and look him in the eyes, see that he's more relaxed now yet still on edge, questioning what your request will be.

'Anything'

He says, keeping hold of you, if anything holding you tighter.

'You need to promise that you'll never leave _me_ either..._and_, if Seamus ever tries to hurt you again, you'll stick up for yourself. Take the power back Brendan. You're strong. Don't do it for _me_... do it for _you_. Yeah?'

You kiss him on the lips as a method of persuasion, don't want him to be afraid anymore. It's all rather nostalgic because you used to be the same, living in a house, constantly on guard, not knowing which day you'll get a smack. It's horrible, feeling unloved, not feeling like you're wanted.

'I promise'

He says when you pull away from the kiss, a slight delay in opening his eyes but when he does they're glistening with a new found strength, a strength that you've given him, that you've passed on because it's worthless to you now. You've done what you needed to do and now it's his turn to do the same.

'Good'

You smile and give him a final kiss, wrap your arms around him and give him that love that he needs, that he wants. The kiss is longing, heat filled, so beautifully unromantic but it doesn't need to be smutty. You untangle and unravel yourself from his grip, tear your lips away with a small pop and make your way to the double doors.

'I'll see you tomorrow yeah?'

He nods with a smile on his face, a smile which you return before leaving him to lock up. You're hit by the cold air when you step outside, icing up your lungs and freezing you to the marrow. You pull on your jacket and wrap it tightly around you, pull out a cigarette and light it, sooth the mild craving that you were having due to your 7 hour intervention behind the bar.

You feel at ease straight away, nicotine filling and surging through your body, although you catch sight of a dark figure lurking underneath one of the street lamps, his face hooded, blending into the shadows. You assume it's a week day drinker on his way home from a night out on the lash so you begin to walk home, rubbing your arms in the hope that it'll insulate you, keep some heat between your cells.

You get to the bottom of the hill when suddenly you're dragged into a side alley by your hair and forced against the wall. You enter fight or flight, adrenaline dominating your veins and you don't know what to do, are too busy thinking on what would _be _the best thing to do. So you shout, need someone to hear you if anyone is going to come to your rescue.

'Bren-!'

A hand is thrown over your mouth before you can call his name and you're punched hard in the stomach, the fist twisting in your gut and winding you. What's happening? What the _fuck_ is happening?! A moment ago you were kissing Brendan, were safe and secure in his arms and now you're in an alley getting beaten for no reason.

'You little thief!'

He spits, deep and gruff, kicking you in the groin. Now you're breathless, retching, your lungs sticking together from the lack of Oxygen within them. You look up at him, your eyes being the only way to communicate. He's wearing a balaclava, only his dark iris' shining through yet they're black with apparent fury, a fury that you can't comprehend.

'I didn't steal anyth-'

His fist cracks against your eye socket and you fall to the floor, are wriggling and writhing, trying to get away but you're kicked hard in the ribs and punched again in the face, your lip splitting, flesh tearing underneath this man's knuckles.

'Please... I didn't do anything...'

'You stole him!'

He barks smacking you in the face again ruthlessly with his solid fist. You can taste blood in your mouth and it makes you gag, makes you want to throw up all of your organs. Why is he doing this to you? You've done nothing.

'Stop... Please...'

You hold your hands up to try and shield yourself, are choking out sobs because you're so confused. He raises his fist, is about to take the plunge and hit you for the final time because you're close to being unconscious, stars sparkling in your eyes and head beginning to spin. You close your eyes and wait for it, wait for him to knock you out yet you hear a struggle and feel nothing.

You open your eyes and Brendan is there in front of you, pinning your attacker against the wall and punching him repeatedly, mercilessly. You can see that blood is already soaking through the balaclava, dripping to the floor and staining the concrete. He's delirious, psychotic, completely brutal and you have to stop him, _have_ to because if he carries on, he'll kill the man and despite the damage he's conflicted on you, he shouldn't end up in a coma, or worse.

'Brendan stop...Stop...'

Despite how weak and effort filled your voice is, he hears you, snaps his head around and you're scared by what you see. His teeth are bared like an animal, knuckles stained with blood, eyes as dark as the night, ice cold and enriched with venom strong enough to kill.

'Stop'

You say, and his face begins to relax, his eyes flushing blue again, the lines on his forehead straightening out, the mad twitch in his cheek coming to a halt. The man groans and Brendan lets go reluctantly, would happily continue punching him till he never got back up.

'Get the fuck out of here'

He curses, turns his back on him and jogs over to you, kneeling down and touching his cold hand to your forehead.

'You okay?'

He asks, his face contorting at the damage done. You can only see out of one eye, the other obviously swollen and bruised to the point where it's obstructing your vision. Your ribs aren't broken; you've had many of those at the hands of Terry and this pain doesn't measure to that.

'You heard me'

You say, an aching smile etching your face yet you regret it immediately because it stretches the cut on your lip, sparks a searing pain which makes you wince and touch a finger to your mouth, blood drenching it automatically and dribbling into your palm.

'Of course I heard you. I was gunna catch up and walk you home. _He_ reached you before I could. Fuck... Steven I'm sorry. This is my fault...'

'Shh. This isn't your fault.'

You bring his bleeding, split knuckles to your lips and kiss them. He's your saviour, a guardian angel sent to protect you. The outcome could have been far worse. You could be lying in a puddle of your own blood right now, dead, but you're alive, in Brendan's arms.

'Come on. Let's get you home'

He delicately curls an arm around your waist and helps you to your feet, pulls your arm around his neck and slowly begins to walk out of the alley. The man who attacked you is nowhere to be seen, must have disappeared quickly to avoid being caught, cover up his own tracks. Not a word is exchanged between you as you make the journey home, although you wince at some points, pot holes in the pavement making you dip and Brendan's grip tightens around you. He obviously hates seeing you hurt, _feels_ your pain as if it's his own.

When you reach the door, it's Danny who answers. Thankfully you knew he was getting home late from Sarah's because you'd forgotten your key, had told him to wait up for you.

When he catches sight of you pinching the bridge of your nose his eyes widen, kerosene poured onto the fire inside of him which makes him haul you both inside. He tears Brendan away from you and holds him against the wall, is about to beat him senseless because he instantly notices the blood on Brendan's knuckles and assumes it's yours. You manage to protest, scream at the top of your lungs.

'No Danny stop! It wasn't him!'

You limp over to them both and shove Danny away before he acts, rip Brendan's clothing out of his grip and tug him away from your house mate.

'Get off him! Are you fucking crazy?!'

You pull Brendan behind you and wrap your arms around him, stare at Danny in disgust at how he _assumed_, how he obviously hasn't given Brendan a chance and is searching for any reason to use his fists, how he hasn't left room for an explanation.

'Well if it wasn't him then who was it?!'

He barks, his limbs shaking in fury, desperately needing to release his pent up anger.

'I don't know okay?! I got jumped when I was coming back here. Brendan saved me right? He came and he beat up the other bloke. It's nearly midnight for fuck sake! Do you really think that he'd bring me home if he beat me up?!'

You see Danny's demeanour falter, a flash of self stupidity flashing across his face. He knows he didn't think, acted rash but he's too fucking self absorbed to admit he's wrong, is indulged in his pride.

'Let's clean you up'

He says, softer now, all anger drowned in a pool of ice cold water.

'Not until you say sorry to Brendan'

You reply, taking a step back, refuse to be touched by him until he apologises for acting like an idiot, for jumping to idiotic conclusions. You see him swallow; gulp down the lump of humiliation. He shuffles on his feet and flicks his gaze to the ground.

'I'm sorry for accusing you Brendan'

'Don't worry about it'

Brendan breathes, encircling you with his arm and turning you so he can assess the damage in proper light.

'Will you be okay? You want me to take you to hospital?'

He asks, ghosting his fingertips over your swollen eye.

'No. It's fine. I'll get Liam to look at it tomorrow. He's training as an A+E doctor.'

'Hm.'

Brendan mumbles, resting his forehead against your own, taking a deep breath, finally able to take in tonight's events.

'I'm _so_ glad you're okay'

He whispers, closing his eyes and taking you in. You do the same, are thankful that he heard you, thankful that he came just in time. Someone was definitely on your side tonight.

'Come on'

Danny is tugging on your arm, gently pulling you away and you give Brendan a kiss with your sore, bruised lips, accidently smear some of your own blood against his pale white skin.

'I'll see you tomorrow okay? I have to get home. Check on Cheryl.'

He says, flicking out his tongue and licking the blood off his lips like a vampire. It turns you on strangely, makes you obscenely masochistic, wanting to be licked clean of your blood.

'Yeah. See you later. Thank you, Bren'

You say, trying your best to give a smile but wincing in pain at the tare in your lip.

'You don't ever have to thank me'

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You've left Steven's house, are walking home in the dark on your own with adrenalin still pumping through your veins from where you beat the crap out of Steven's attacker. You'd exited the pub and looked left and right, couldn't see the boy anywhere and you'd begun to panic. That's when you heard a shout. You ran as if your life depended on it and when you saw Steven lying on the floor with blood dripping down his face, something inside of you snapped and you'd gone blind with red fury. You had no idea what was happening until Steven called you, until his voice, weak and frail, had managed to divert your attention when you were set to cause some serious damage.

You still can't help feeling like it was your fault. You should have told him to wait for you and then walked along side him then none of this would have happened. He told you it _wasn't_. How could you have known though? That someone would attack him? Various scenarios run through your mind, whether someone planned this, whether they'd deliberately wanted to hurt the boy or whether it was simply a drunk who was searching for a fight. You think it was the latter.

When you get home the house is silent. You contemplate on shouting Cheryl's name but would probably get a slap if you woke her up so you decide against it. Instead you enter the living room and thankfully find it in the same state as you left it. The kitchen is clean too and you flip up the bin lid to find that Danielle and Cheryl had decided on a pizza in the end.

There's a plate on the side with the remaining slices on, all wrapped in cling film and you tuck in straight away, don't care if it's cold because you're starving, haven't eaten since your shift began over 8 hours ago. Your appetite built up well because within minutes you've eaten everything and licked the plate clean.

'Bren?'

Cheryl's small voice makes you jump out of your skin. You flip round and see her standing in her pink dressing gown rubbing her eyes, her blonde hair mussed in every direction.

'Jesus Chez. You trying to give me a heart attack?!'

You hiss, clinging on to your chest to stop your heart from bursting out.

'Sorry, I heard you come in. Just thought you might have bought Da back with you but...'

She cuts off mid sentence, halts with the rubbing of her eyes and flicks her gaze from your face.

'What's that on your knuckles?'

Before you can comprehend what she's asking you, she's stood in front of you, analysing your bloodied hand and your heart leaps into your throat. What do you say? Tell her the truth and let her believe that you and Steven are on better terms? Or allow her to think for herself? Don't confirm but don't deny because that way you're safer.

'Um...'

'It's blood... Brendan how did you get _blood_ on your knuckles?'

She's wide awake now, is glaring at you with her wide, brown eyes and you feel obliged to tell her. She's looking at you in the same way as Seamus, obviously doesn't realise that she is but it's having the same affect, is driving you into the floor.

'I-I got in a fight... but it isn't how it sounds Chez I swear...'

'Ste... You hurt Ste again didn't you? What the hell is your problem Brendan?!'

She's spits, throwing down your arm and slapping you wildly, her teeth gritted, all amount of harm intentional.

'No... Chez...I saved him okay?!... I saved him!'

'What?!'

'He got jumped in the side alley down the bottom of the hill. I went and I... got into a fight with the other guy. That's why I'm late coming back because I had to take Steven home. Okay? Now stop acting like such a crazy cow and go upstairs to bed. It's 1:00am and I dunno about you, but I'm _fucking_ tired.'

All of her actions come to a complete halt at your minute outburst. You're tired, in pain and you just want to sleep. Tonight's events and revelations have overloaded your brain, fried it completely.

'You... saved him?'

'Yes. I'm not talking about it anymore. I'm going to bed'

* * *

You wake up and carry out your daily morning routine, brushing your teeth, styling your hair, getting changed and due to your father's absence, you've attempted to make breakfast. The stiffness in your hands inhibits some of the actions but your horrendous cooking skills makes it even worse.

'Morning Bren'

Cheryl comes down the stairs, her usual bubbly self with Danielle trailing behind her, her brown hair beautifully curled, uniform prim and proper.

'I made breakfast but I've gotta head out and meet Paddy.'

'It's burnt...'

Cheryl holds up a slice of toast that's practically cremated, her face contorting as she crumbles it beneath her fingertips.

'Well I'm so sorry for not being able to make a perfect breakfast when my knuckles feel like they're on fire, all because _I'm _the one who saved your stupid friend from getting beaten to death'

You slam the plate filled with toast onto the table and throw the used, buttered knife into the sink, Cheryl flinching from the loud crash.

'Come on Bren I didn't mean it like that and you know it'

She mumbles softly, attempting to calm you down.

'I know... I'm sorry...'

You sigh and bring your baby sister into a hug. You still haven't been able to take things in, forgive yourself for what happened to Steven and you didn't mean to snap. Even the smallest of digs have the power to flip your lid today, get under your skin and make your blood boil.

'Do you think dad will be home tonight?'

Cheryl whispers and that's the one question you were hoping she wouldn't ask. When she asks questions, it means she's worried and when she's worried, she cries. It's something of the norm, something you've had to deal with for a while now. You can't lie to her, can't give her false hope and watch her crash to the ground when you're wrong.

'I don't know'

You whisper in return and you feel guilty because you hope he isn't, hope that he will _never_ come back because your life would be so much easier. You'd be free of this constant torture you undergo in his presence, the reminders, the nightmares and constant fear that he'll get you, rape you, beat you.

'I have to go'

You pull away before she can protest, give her a small kiss on the cheek and make your way out of the house, shooting Danielle a polite smile as you pass. This house no longer feels like a home; it feels like a prison, each wall and window acting as a bar, trapping you and your bedroom feels like your cell, the place where you're supposed to feel comfort but in reality, it's the place where you're left, broken and uncared for, unloved.

You wonder down the road, feeling more relaxed. Every morning you treat as your release date, where you're finally free but only for a day. It's like buying the present you've wanted for ages and having to return it. It's amazing but disappointment always lurks at the end.

You see Paddy shuffling along ahead of you and you run after him, jump on his back when he's close enough and shout;

'Hey!'

'Brendan fuck off!'

He mumbles, shrugging you off his back weakly. You touch your feet to the floor in confusion, take a couple of steps forward to see his face and your eyes widen in shock.

'What happened to your face?'

You ask, unintentionally gawping at his black and blue eyes, the split in his cheek and tear in his lip, all of which are bleeding ever so slightly. He's hunched over, ribs obviously bruised.

'I had a game yesterday and we won so we went to the pub to celebrate. The other team delightfully stopped by and started mocking us. Said we cheated and the ref was apparently on our side. Then all of us got into a fight. Massive bar brawl.'

He stops in his tracks and grumbles at the pain in his side, leans over and takes some deep breaths before trying to straighten up.

'Why the hell are you walking to school?! You should be at home'

You put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, take hold of his arm and sling it around your neck to help support his weight.

'No. I _need_ to go in today. Pricey's got me an interview with a top coach that will help me get a Football apprenticeship. I can't miss it.'

'Jesus Christ.'

You practically carry him the rest of the way, help him through the school gates and brave through everyone's prying eyes and speculations, don't really care if they're whispering and gawping because you're not the subject of conversation for once.

You take Paddy to Mr Price's office and bid him good luck for his interview. Your services are no longer required and he thanks you for helping him. You told him that that is what friends are for and he simply smiled.

The next person you see is Steven, limping alongside Cheryl and Danielle. They're both trying to aid him, lending their arms as support. You avoid them though, can't face bringing the subject up again because you're still sensitive about it. Seeing the bruises on the boy's face stabs at the heart of you, makes you feel sick almost because you wanted to _kill_ the man who did it, nearly did become another version of your father.

* * *

**Ste's P.O.V**

You sit at the normal table when lunch comes around, in-between Cheryl and Danielle, both running errands for you when you ask them nicely; filling up your water bottle and grabbing food for you when you're too achy to move. You're thankful for them helping you although you've snapped once already at how they want you to report the attack to the police. You have nothing to go on what so ever, didn't see the man's face because of the balaclava and to be honest, you don't want to get the police involved because it will take forever for them to find a scrap of evidence, detect any details that will help identify your attacker. It's too much aggravation.

Brendan comes along a moment later with Paddy next to him. It's the first time you've seen his friend in a couple of days and your jaw drops when you see him. He's a spitting image of you, black and blue and swollen and bruised and bloody.

'Jesus Ste were you in the bar brawl too?'

Paddy asks, his eyes wide when he sets his sight on you, trying to take a seat without angling himself awkwardly.

'No... I-I got beaten up by a random drunk when I finished my shift. What happened to you?'

You ask. He looks far worse than you, his wounds still seeping with blood.

'Won a footie game last night and went to the pub with the boys to celebrate. Our opposition stopped by and accused us of cheating and we all got into a huge fight.'

'Oh yeah I heard. Jason's on the team too right? He told me about it, said they went mental. He's only got a black eye though. You must have gotten right in there'

He chuckles at how you're trying to humour him, at suggesting his determination and stubborn persona is part of the reason why he's more battered than half of the other team members.

You feel something brush against your foot when Danielle begins to question her brother. You flick your gaze to Brendan. His eyes are slightly shadowed with unconditional lust yet filled with worry so you reassuringly rub your foot against his to tell him that you're okay. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't heard you, could be in a coma right now or dead. You stroke each other's foot under the table all throughout lunch, continue to glance flirtatiously at one another, subtle enough so no one else sees, so no one has any suspicions.

When lunch ends, Cheryl and Danielle help you to stand and carry your bag for you. All of you walk together down the hall, Brendan behind you helping Paddy along, Danielle holding your bag, her arm wrapped around you, Cheryl's arm linked through yours. They defend you of on lookers, tell them to mind their own business and that you're not some sort of circus animal, a freak show. You envy them for that, how they have the courage to stand up to people without a care in the world. A chord needs to snap in order for you to gain that courage.

'This is me'

You say, halting outside of Mr Price's office. He heard about what happened to you and you gave him the full explanation this morning when he pulled you out of your first lesson. You want to see him again though, want to arrange something that ensures you're interacting outside of school as well as in because he is your godfather after all, the honour bestowed by your dad when you were born, before he left to fight in the war.

'Here. We'll see you later okay?'

Danielle gives you your bag and wonders off down the hall with Cheryl towards their classroom. Brendan still lingers behind them with Paddy's arm slung around his neck yet he looks back at you shakes his hand. You flick down your gaze and watch him drop a piece of paper onto the floor before winking and carrying on.

You limp over, bend and pick it up and unravel it.

_See you at yours after school._

It reads and you can't help but smile. Your insides feel all mushy, butterflies flap aimlessly around in your stomach and your heart swells in your chest.

* * *

When you get home, this time from the aid of Danny who left work especially to come and get you, you lie lazily on the sofa, splay out your limbs and relax, shut your eyes and listen to the comforting sound of your own breath rather than the students voices all speculating about how you sustained your injuries

The next thing you know, you're being woken up, your exhausting and effort filled day seeming to have exerted you of all energy.

'Steven...'

You feel someone shaking you, rocking your body gently from side to side and you force open your eyes, didn't intend on falling asleep. You're relieved though to find Brendan above you, thought that if he saw you sleeping then he'd leave.

'Hey sleepy head'

He croons, a smile of greeting on his face when you blink his face into focus, quickly rubbing any sleep out of your eyes.

'Shit... Didn't mean to fall asleep... Sorry'

It's too difficult for you to sit up at the moment. Your ribs feel like they're burning, throbbing almost. Brendan runs his fingers through your hair, soothing you as you become fully conscious.

'It's okay. I'm late, what else could I expect?'

'Why _were_ you late?'

You ask curiously, slinging your arm off the edge of the sofa and resting it on his hip.

'Had to think of an excuse to tell Cheryl. Danielle is with her though so she wasn't really that bothered what I told her.'

He lowers his head momentarily, obviously still feels guilty about keeping you a secret.

'Hey'

You take his chin between your thumb and index finger, lift it so he's looking at you.

'We can keep us a secret until you're ready okay? I told you that I won't force you to tell anyone'

You want to make that imperative, want Brendan to feel comfortable because with everything you've found out, he needs that one person who's going to support him no matter what. _You_ want to be that person.

'I just... I dunno. I think you'll end up getting tired of it and will want people to know about this...us...'

You silence him, don't want to hear anymore of his ludicrous predictions of what he thinks will be. You slide a hand round the back of his head and pull him into a kiss, don't care if it hurts your bruised and torn lips because you need this, need him. Your lips move in sync, mouths wide and wanting, tongues rubbing and familiarizing. It's deep and intimate, so deliciously soft and it makes you groan, low and primal as your fingers tighten around the strands of hair that are tangled between them.

'Jesus do you two ever come up for air?'

You and Brendan break apart, startled as Liam walks in with a cup of tea in hand.

'Let's have another look at you'

He says, kneeling down in front you and analysing your face, moving his finger from side to side to make sure that your eye isn't damaged and you don't have concussion. He shines lights at you and prods you, circulates his fingers into your bruised ribs to double check they're not broken.

'Right... Your concussion was mild but that's alright now, you shouldn't lose any sight, just some bad bruising around the eye socket, your ribs are badly bruised as well but even if they were broken there isn't really anything we can do about that apart from putting you on strong painkillers. You should be all cleared up within a couple of weeks. Just some cuts and bruises. Thankfully nothing too serious.'

He smiles and stands, takes himself over to the other sofa and sits himself down, leaving Brendan next to you, his eyes focused on the T.V.

'Thanks Liam. Love having a man in uniform'

You say, catching his gaze and giving him a flirtatious wink which he returns while sticking his tongue out and running it along his perfectly straight teeth. You love flirting with Liam, find it hilarious that you can share sexual gestures with him and not act upon them. He's the friend that you can be mindlessly dirty with no matter what the circumstances are.

'I like a patient that I can give a firm... once over'

You hear a small grumble come from beside you and you tilt your head upwards to see Brendan's face, expressionless, his lips pursed, in a tight straight line and his jaw is locked.

'Someone isn't jealous are they?'

You croon, reaching round an arm to curl around his neck.

'Me? Never'

He replies aimlessly, attempting to correct your suspicion but he says it with no conviction what so ever.

'Come here'

You pull him back into a lingering, hungry kiss, thread your fingers through his hair once again and allow yourself to float on a cloud, weightless. You lose yourself at the taste of him, the feel of his warm hands slipping under your shirt and sliding against your skin.

You hear the doorbell go but completely ignore it, aren't really able to focus your attention on anything else but kissing Brendan's soft lips, forever pulling him closer because you can't get enough, want him on you, want to feel lost, not knowing where he begins and you end.

'What the...'

The voice you hear is all too familiar and it makes you break apart from Brendan at lightning speed. You shoot to the other end of the sofa, the fear and panic over riding your sense of pain. Brendan is on his feet and on the other side of the room now, his back flat against the wall his chest heaving up and down much like your own, eyes wide and full of confusion.

'Chez...'

He croaks, sweat forming on his brow, his cheeks red and flushed.

'S-So it's true?'

She asks, dramatically touching her finger tips to her chest in shock, her jaw nearly dragging along the floor as she stands aimlessly in the middle of the living room, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

'How did you know I was here?'

Brendan gulps, needs to know how she knew, whether it was intuitive, whether you had given something away.

'I got this through the letter box while me and Danielle were watching a film!'

She unfolds a piece of paper and shows it to the pair of you. The words are neatly written, aren't in a particular style, obviously trying to eliminate any form of identity. It reads;

_Brendan lied. Try Ste's house, they are together after all_

'I came here to get an explanation, and I find you kissing my best friend!'

Cheryl blasts in Brendan's direction, ripping the piece of paper to shreds and throwing it to the floor in fury.

'How long has this been going on? Have you two... Brendan why didn't you tell me you were gay?!'

She's tripping over her words, is blind with annoyance and shock. You continue to sit and say nothing, are too scared to say anything because this is in Brendan's hands. You would have been fine telling her that you were seeing each other but this was Brendan's wish, to keep things a secret.

'I-I couldn't... I couldn't... Me and Steven weren't _meant_ to happen... it just _did_ and I didn't know how to tell you. I was going to when I was ready but...I was scared...'

'Why? You can tell me anything'

She's much softer now, her voice drained of her pent up anger. She slowly walks over to her brother and pulls him into a hug which he isn't sure how to respond to,

'Me and dad would have loved you no matter what, you know that'

'No... Chez...'

Brendan pushes her away, needs to make this point urgent.

'You can't tell dad okay? You _can't'_

'Why? He'll understand-'

'No... Urm... No... Let me tell him myself okay?'

He needs that excuse, needs to tell her _something_ that will stop her from spilling the beans because his father can _never_ know. You have a rough idea of what the consequences will be, what scrutiny he will come under and you want to protect Brendan from that, will do anything to ensure that.

'Yeah Chez... Please...'

You get up from the sofa and stand next to Brendan, see that he needs some sort of support here because this is a skeleton that he didn't want coming out of the closet so soon, or maybe not at all.

'Let me and Brendan tell your dad when we're ready. We weren't even ready to tell you yet because... we... didn't know if it was gunna last.'

You justify, see her face soften even further to what appears to be sympathy, apparently feeling guilty that she barged in, found something out that she wasn't supposed to know.

'So... Like I asked before... How long?'

She asks, more curious than demanding this time.

'C-Couple of months'

Brendan mutters, hanging his head between his shoulders. You ponder on whether to touch him as a method of comfort but you know that he wouldn't be comfortable with it, has only just been able to feel comfortable with kissing you in front of your house mates so you decide against it. Instead you stand there awkwardly, fiddling with your hands as Cheryl continues to glare.

She suddenly breaks into a smile, her plump cheeks flushing with colour and eyes brightening.

'You guys! Come here!'

She squeals, pulling you both into an almighty hug that practically crushes you. If there's one thing you know about Cheryl, it's that she can't stay angry forever, can never hold a grudge against anyone.

* * *

**One month later**

Cheryl came around a lot quicker than you had anticipated, accepted you both and demanded that she hear every last detail about how you and Brendan came to be. Of course that embarrassed him so you shrugged the conversation off and managed to keep things discrete. She agreed not to tell anyone, agreed not to tell Seamus and agreed to act normal towards the pair of you.

Brendan had become quite closed and introvert when she was around your house with the pair of you, would sit so you weren't touching, would avert from kissing you in front of her which you kind of understand because he needs time to adjust, just like he needed time to get used to Danny, Jamie, Liam and Kyle. Although this scenario is obviously quite different. You think it's because he doesn't want to show too much personal displays of affection because that could connote seriousness to what you two have. Indeed it has become serious but he doesn't want Cheryl to know that otherwise she'll brag Brendan further to tell Seamus.

Brendan also told you that Seamus decided to make his return 4 days after he left for the races, apparently arrived home with bruises and cuts on his face, had obviously gotten into a few fights while he was absent which doesn't particularly surprise you.

You've been out a few times with Mr Price, haven't been able to help calling him that because that's the only name you've ever addressed him as. He insisted you call him Keith seeing as that was his real name, although you found it hard to adjust to because it felt strange calling a teacher by their first name. Your housemates welcomed him seeing as he is a part of your life, made a real effort and thankfully they all get along like a house on fire.

You're about to head out to meet Cheryl and walk to school but are having to change your sheets _again_ because of another horrific night sweat. They're drenched and every time you wake up and see the stained patch underneath you, it makes you cringe. You've finally agreed to go to a doctor however after much persuasion from Keith and Brendan but it was like you predicted; they've booked you in for a week's time.

You come down the stairs all bright and clean, drag the sheets behind you and stuff them into the laundry basket, shoot Jamie a look of apology because this is the fourth time this month that he's had to change them for you.

'I'm going to a doctor next week so don't give me that!'

You say defensively, holding your hands up and avoiding all responsibility.

'Shut up and eat your toast'

He replies, putting a plate down in front of you and squeezing on your trapeziums.

'Jesus... You've lost weight...'

He mumbles, pressing his fingertips down your spine, dipping over your vertebrae.

'No I haven't. Get off you pleb!'

You chuckle, shrugging him off you and stuffing down your toast hungrily. You throw on your shoes and nick a fag from Jamie before leaving, only having to say goodbye to him today because Danny is with Sarah for her first scan, Liam is at University today and Kyle is at work, leaving Jamie to work from home.

'See you later'

You shout before walking in the direction of the school, have agreed to meet Cheryl half way from now on because travelling to her house seemed to be a bit too far and you were getting more and more out of breath and exhausted.

You see her already waiting by the wall, Brendan and Paddy only a few paces up the road. Your heart leaps into your throat when you catch sight of him, something that Cheryl reads so easily.

'You've fallen for him haven't you?'

She asks when you finally reach her and you contort your face as if the idea is ridiculous, but your heart is saying otherwise.

'No. We're just...seeing each other. It's not like he's my boyfriend'

Oh how you wish he was, how you wish you could ask him and have him say _Yes, Steven, you're my boyfriend_. It'd feel like closure, something official, although you feel like a loose thread, not really knowing whether you're coming or going but when you're with him, you've never felt so cherished, so wanted.

'Yeah... Right'

Cheryl replies in a disbelieving tone, her eyebrows raised as you walk off down the street. You talk aimlessly, make phatic small talk, idle chatter to pass the time when suddenly you start to feel numb in your feet.

'Ow!'

You curse, shaking your foot and halting on the spot, your brows knitting together in confusion.

'What's up?'

'Pins and needles in my feet I think... Jesus'

You shrug it off and continue, think that walking it off will make it die away but if anything it gets worse, feels like your legs are going numb, weak like jelly. You stumble and have to use one of the school gates as support. Your knees are shaking and suddenly you're sweating again, can feel it dripping down your back and soaking your uniform. You try to breathe through it, have never been conscious when having one of these sweats, have always been asleep, out cold.

'Ste? Ste?!'

Cheryl's voice is nothing but a distant sound, blending in with the loud, white noise, a deep ringing that penetrates your ear drums like fingernails against a chalk board. You can't hear your own voice, wonder whether you're actually saying anything at all and your vision is obscured, every face blurry and it's only then that you realize you've collapsed.

'Can't feel my legs'

You say, are sure that you've said it loud enough for _someone_ to hear. Then there's a light in your face, white and bright. You can make out the colours of green and luminous yellow, know that it's the paramedics because you feel something slide underneath you, a stretcher presumably.

* * *

You can hear a beeping noise.

It sounds like a machine.

You can't fathom what's just happened, whether that was all a dream because you feel like you're waking up from a deep sleep.

Your eyes flicker open and you're greeted by a white ceiling. The room smells clean, like disinfectant and then you know you're in a hospital because the beeping of the machine becomes more clear, the sound of a ringing telephone, footsteps of doctors becoming clearer as well.

'Ste?'

You loll your head in the direction of the voice and find Keith sitting next to you, his hair mussed and tie undone, hanging loose around his neck.

'Thank god you're okay.'

'W-What happened?'

You mumble, have no idea how you got here, what time it is, how long you've been unconscious.

'You collapsed this morning. Gave everyone the shock of their life. Especially me.'

He moves his chair closer to you and rests his elbows on the railing alongside your bed. He looks tired, restless, has obviously been worried about you because he has bags under his eyes from where he's been constantly rubbing them.

'Where's Brendan?'

You ask, wonder why he isn't here with you, why he didn't come in the ambulance with you.

'He's still at school. I told him to stay there because... Only one person could come with you. I know you probably want him here right now but he said he'd come later and I just... I was so worried-'

'Don't be sorry. I'm glad you're here. More effort than my mum ever put in'

You chuckle, exchange a smile with your godfather and wonder how you ever lived this long without him. In such little time he has done so much, _been_ so much to you.

'Steven Hay?'

You're interrupted. A small nurse with blonde hair pops her head around the corner, a kind smile on her face. Her lips plump and pink, eyebrows shaped nicely, her eyes a dark brown colour.

She wonders inside with papers in her hands, quickly analyses the chart at the end of your bed and then opens a blue file, her eyes quickly scanning over the words.

'When you were emitted, Mr Price said that you told him you couldn't feel your legs is that correct?

You nod in affirmation, remember the stabbing and numbness in your toes, how your legs felt like they had no bones in.

'Is that still the case now?'

She lifts up the bottom of your blankets and touches each of your toes with a small pin.

'No. No they're fine now'

You say, the small prick of the sharp edge making you flinch.

'We took you in for a CT scan, and unfortunately, we found that you have a tumour the size of a golf ball on your eighth vertebra which has been putting pressure on your spinal cord. Hence the numbness in your feet and legs and that's also the reason why you've collapsed on more than one occasion.'

A tumour? As in...No. No way. This wasn't happening. This was some sort of joke right? She was joking. This a dream or an early April fools.

'It's operable though right?'

Keith intervenes, his voice deep and croaky, is expressing the worry that you feel.

'It is yes, but the operation is very risky. There can be some major complications in which the spinal cord is damaged which can paralyze you. Of course it is down to you whether you have it done, but if you don't, the tumour will paralyze you anyway.'

'I'll have it done. Just do it. I don't care'

You're panicking. How can you possibly have a tumour?! You haven't done anything wrong. Sure you've smoked but not majorly, and not even for a long period of time. She must have you mixed up with someone else. Must have.

'It isn't as simple as that. We also did some blood tests and we found some abnormal cells. I'm so sorry-'

'No...'

Keith throws his hands into his palms, is sobbing within a matter of seconds and he's yanking on his own hair, shaking uncontrollably and you've never seen a man like that before, so destroyed and broken. It's like he's detached because, surely you aren't _that_ ill, surely it's just a slight exaggeration what this woman is telling you.

'What?... What is it?'

You ask, tears already welling in your eyes because you know it's something bad if this is Keith's reaction. Your heart is thudding, dragging, barely beating at all because it feels like time has stopped, like everything is building up to this one moment and you're begging, praying that it isn't as bad as it may seem.

'You have Acute lymphocytic leukemia'

'No... No No No No No...'

He's rocking back and forth now, is clinging onto your hand for dear life, his face still buried out of sight although his ears are red, the veins in his forehead bulging.

'What does that mean?'

You ask, tears streaming down your face. You want Brendan here, want him to take everything bad that you have inside of you away, kiss it better, anything because he has the power to do that. You want to hide your face in his chest, have his arms around you to protect you from everything, want to feel his lips on yours, feel his fingers threaded through your own.

'I'm so sorry. It means you have cancer of the blood.'

**Please leave me a small note guys. I'd love to hear what you have to say and whether you expected this. I hope I've surprised you and done this justice and managed to keep you interested. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed and followed and favourited. It means the world to me.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You sit in class, tapping your foot mindlessly and impatiently, watching the clock, every second passing so incredibly slow. Five minutes left until the bell and then you're out of here, are going straight to the hospital because you need to know how he is, what happened. This morning's events shocked you. Paddy was at your side walking with you through the school gates, back to his normal self after his pub brawl, slightly scarred but okay, and the next thing you knew, Cheryl was screaming at the top of her lungs, loud, ear piercing noise that rocked your ear drums.

You'd shot around and there Steven was, lying on the ground. You'd sprinted over at the speed of light, fell to your knees in front of him but were shoved away instantaneously by Mr Price.

'Sir, please. Let me help him please'

You begged him but he pulled you away, dragged you against your will to the side of the drive way. A crowd began to gather around Steven and all you wanted to do was barge your way through them, pick the boy up into your arms and take him away, make him better.

'Sir... Please...'

'No Brendan. Stay here. You have to stay here'

He said, had taken your face into his hands and seen how desperate you were to help him. But you and he both knew that you could do nothing, not really. Your presence was useless but you just wanted to be close to him, needed to be close to him.

You nodded reluctantly, sobbed silently to yourself as you saw the boy being carried into an ambulance on a stretcher, his eyes closed and body limp. Mr Price had gone with him, left you here in the school all day and you'd gone without a scrap of news, didn't know if he had woken up, if he was unconscious.

10,9,8,7

You've been counting down the seconds of your last class, watched the second and minute hand turn 360 digrees and it's finally close to turning full circle.

6,5,4

Cheryl had been in panic all day as well, wouldn't shut up about him at break and lunch and it only made you more paranoid. You'd snapped at her, told her to shut her cake hole otherwise you were going to do it for her, but you immediately apologised. She understood how worried you were and forgave you moments later.

3,2,1

The familiar sound of the bell rockets through the hall and you're up, out of your seat, bag on your back and sprinting down and out of the building as fast as your legs will take you, before your teacher has officially dismissed you. You've missed the after school rush, have avoided the stampede of teenagers and are running down the streets, weaving in and out of people, parents, children, the elderly, are dodging them like pacman. Your daily exercise regime works in your favour in terms of your stamina, are able to run for a few miles before your lungs start to burn. Your sense of direction is pure instinct, almost like a magnet that is being drawn to its desired pole.

Within a few minutes, you're sprinting up towards the hospital entrance, are following regulations by squirting your hands with the sanitiser.

'Can I help you young man?'

You hate hospitals, always have. Especially when your dad had to bring you here after he'd gone overboard with beating you, had given you his specialised death glare that made you keep his secret. You've lost count of how many times he's hospitalised you with broken ribs and dislocated bones.

'Yeah umm... I'm looking for Steven Hay. He came in this morning'

You approach the front desk, have never had to visit anyone in hospital before. Your presence has been requested on several occasions but you avoided it like the plague. The lady sat behind the counter flicked through the computer records. She had painted red lips, long lashes that masked chocolate brown eyes. Blonde hair hung in long curls down her shoulders, her nails pampered to death.

'Ah, yes. He's on Level 5. Take the lift, straight down the corridor when you come out, second left and first door on your right'

You try to re-run it in your head but get lost at the part where you enter the lift.

'Say that again'

'Brendan?'

A voice comes from behind you, familiar yet you can't put a face to it. You turn and find Liam in his green overalls, had completely forgotten that he was training in A+E.

'You looking for Ste?'

He asks, his face falling and tone lowering in apparent commiseration.

'Yeah'

The older man tips his head signalling for you to follow and you do, give the lady a smile of thanks which she gladly returns. Instead of taking the lift, he leads you up the stairs, said that waiting for the lift with other people is a pain in the ass.

'Is Steven okay?'

You ask, but Liam avoids the question, doesn't answer it at all in fact. He keeps his back to you, doesn't look at you or say another word until you reach his room. He departs with a polite smile, not his normal, enthusiastic self and that only makes you feel worse.

You knock on the door and enter, find Steven in the room alone crying into his knees. Mr Price's suit jacket is hung on the back of one of the visitors chairs, has obviously gone to the toilet or fetched coffee.

'Steven'

You say delicately and the boy's head snaps in your direction. His eyes are red and blood shot, heavy, black and bagged underneath. His golden cheeks are flustered red, moist with tears. The skin on his nose is irritated from where he's obviously been rubbing away the snot.

'Brendan... Oh my god Brendan'

You rush over to him and he darts to the end of the bed and throws his arms around you, clings to you for dear life and cries his load into your shoulder, his small and fragile, weightless body shaking with wet emotion. Seeing him like this only makes you want to cry too, has already started to well you up, moisture prickling from your tear ducts.

'It's okay. You're okay. I've got you now'

You mumble, rubbing your hands up and down his back soothingly and closing your eyes, taking every inch of him in. It feels like you've been apart for decades, feels like you haven't held him in centuries. But it makes it even more special.

'I have cancer Brendan. I've got cancer'

He chokes, strangled and broken and your throat feels like it's been wrung with barbed wire. Your stomach has dropped so low it feels like it's no longer in your body, your heart has stopped beating and oxygen is lying dormant in your veins, is useless. You push him away, look into his red eyes and think this is some weird joke, some sick, masochistic, joke.

'C-cancer? No... No you don't have _cancer._ You can't... You can't...'

You trip over your words, are dumbfounded. This boy... _Your _boy has cancer? You feel strangely angry. Why do you feel angry? Steven has done absolutely nothing wrong and now he has to deal with this? There are bad people in the world, murderers, rapists, thieves, all of whom should be damned to hell, should have to suffer a long and painful death because they deserve it. And then there's people like Steven. He's a good boy, may have made idiotic mistakes but would never hurt a soul, would rather end his own life than hurt another and he is cursed with _this_? This isn't fair, isn't fucking fair. You start to shake your head in disbelief because this isn't how life is supposed to go, isn't how it works. Good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, not the other way around. He's nodding though, contradicting you, his eyes closing and tears trickling down his cheeks. He sobs into his own hands and you feel like you're going to be sick, have to grab onto the railing of the hospital bed to stop yourself from falling over because your knees no longer feel like they're holding you up, are bucking underneath you.

You take hold of his shirt and pull him back into your chest, allow him to cry even more and you cry with him, want nothing more than to be able to take everything bad out of him and have it for yourself because you deserve it more than he does. If you could ask God to give Steven's cancer to you, then you would. But God is a lie, a fraud. You learnt that over ten years ago when he rejected your prayers.

'It's okay. You're gunna be fine you know why? Because you're strong. And they've got... Chemo and stuff. And i'm gunna be here, just like I promised yeah?'

You say through your tears, stroke your fingers through his soft hair and he nods against you, takes fistfuls of your school shirt into his hands and doesn't let go, wants to keep you there but you weren't planning on moving anyway.

'There's more'

He mumbles. More? What more could there possibly be?!

'I've got a tumour. On my spine. It's the reason I keep collapsing'

You pull away from him again and cup his face in your hands. He's calmed down a little bit now, is trying to compose himself and be the strong boy that you know he is.

'What happens to that?'

You ask, are trying to keep your cool but your anger is severely rising.

'They have to operate on it. That's all I know. They said they're going through my treatment plan now'

All you can do is nod. A treatment _plan_? Surely it doesn't take a lot of planning for christ sake. They're wasting time. The longer they piss about, the closer you'll come to losing this boy and that in itself isn't an option. You're not going to have your purpose of life taken away from you.

Mr Price walks back in at that moment, three coffees in hand. It makes you jump, your whole body flinching at the disruption.

'Brendan'

He says with a polite nod of his head as he hands a coffee to you.

'I saw you walking up with Liam'

He practically reads your mind, answers the question of how he knew you were here. He passes the other coffee to Steven and sits back in the chair that he obviously occupied before, takes a sip of the steaming brew and rests back, makes himself comfortable.

'So... How long will this treatment thing be?'

You ask, perching on the edge of the bed.

'About two years. Maybe more'

Mr Price intervenes, would know more about these things than either of you would. The question is, how does he know that? He sits forward, again, as if he has read your mind and he flicks his gaze between you and Steven, is wearing an expression of guilt.

'I had leukaemia when I was 21, got it just after your dad left to go and fight in the war. I had to have chemo for about a year and half. But yours is more severe than mine, more complicated. It could probably take up to three years'

Steven's eyes swell with tears again. You embrace him, will let him cry into you for as long as he needs.

'Three fucking years of hospitals and pain. I'm gunna be bald! Do you know how long it takes for my hair to be this perfect!?'

You can't help but chuckle, giggle at his over dramatic persona. It warms your heart that he's making the situation about his hair rather than the poison that's running through his veins. He reassuring himself and reassuring you.

'Will you still want me when all my hair is gone?'

The question catches you off guard because it's simply ludicrous. How could he even ask that? It insults you slightly but you guess it's for his own peace of mind, to prove that you're standing by the promises you made to each other.

'Of course I will. I'm not with you for your hair, despite how perfect it is.'

You say, almost outraged, your brows knitting together and jaw dropping. You kiss him to accompany your answer, hand behind his head, glide your tongue along his bottom lip. His kiss is strangely addictive, soft lips and moist tongue, wide and wet and warm and so enticing. Your domestic moment is interrupted when one of the nurses enters the room. You instinctively back away, are slightly uncomfortable with other people seeing you share intimate moments like these. It's something you still haven't gotten used to.

'So, Ste. I've had a word with oncology and they've looked at your scans and bloods and we've come up with a brief overview of what your treatment will consist of. Because of the size of your tumour, we have to start treatment right away. We're going to book you in for numerous radiotherapy sessions in which we blast a designated area with radiation waves. This should hopefully make the tumour smaller and will give us better success rate when we remove it during an operation. Chemotherapy is also required which is where we insert a canular into your arm or wrist and we give you drugs that will destroy the rapidly dividing cells.'

You, Steven and Mr Price are all nodding, Pricey more so because he knew this was coming, has already, shockingly experienced it. That was something you didn't expect at all but it explains why he had turned pale when you told him about Steven's night sweats. It makes you realise... All of this time; He knew.

'Will it hurt?'

Steven asks out of the blue, is obviously petrified of how much pain he'll be in.

'It will do. Yes. I analysed your blood before I came over and I'd say that your cancer has been developing for well over a year. The pain can vary but, due to the severity of your case, we'll have to start chemotherapy next week.'

Your eyes widen.

'How many radio sessions will he need?'

Pricey's question shocks you. How can he be focusing on that, when his godson is going to be pumped with drugs in a week's time? Is it just you or does that sound too soon? You thread your fingers through Steven's and squeeze on his hand, can see that he is having the same thought process as you are.

'The tumour is quite large so there is only a certain amount it can do. It should shrink it, but by how much, we don't know. It may be a lot, it may only be by the smallest amount. We're going to have to do a Lumbar puncture to find out.'

Steven's grip automatically tightens on your hand, squeezes so hard that you're sure he is cutting off the circulation to your fingers. He knows what that is, knows what it includes but you're clueless.

'What's that?'

'It's where we insert a needle into the spine and take a sample of fluid and cells. We're going to have to do that now so we can send the cells away to be analysed. We can then determine how many radio sessions Ste needs.'

Steven's grip tightens even further, is close to breaking your fingers because your knuckles loudly crack. You hear him gulp, attempt to swallow the lump that has risen in his throat.

'I don't want that done. It's not happening. Nope'

The boy shakes his head vigorously, is determined to avoid any such pain which is completely understandable, but he needs to think of himself and what would be best. He's missing the point.

'You don't have a choice I'm afraid. We'll make it as painless as possible.'

He's still shaking his head, is on the verge of crying again. It's breaking your heart seeing him like this. You're still in tact but your heart and soul are in a million pieces. You want to wipe away every diamond tear, want to lick his spine and take the tumour away without any pain. Why can't fantasy be reality? Why can't you be Superman and give the help to those who need it?

'Don't let them do it Brendan. Please.'

He changes his position and hides behind you, his head pressing against your shoulder. This is killing you, feels like your body is being ripped apart by a shredder. You turn and take hold of both of his hands, force him to look at you because he needs to do what's best. You're against this just as much as he is, but who said the best thing to do was the easiest?

'You've got to do this Steven. You _have _to. I'll be right here okay? You look at me the whole time, you understand?'

You kiss him again, don't give a shit if the nurse sees. The boy needs you, needs your lips against his, another way of reminding him of that promise you made in the pub when you showed him the scars on your back. You kiss away the salty tears that fall between your lips, crush them.

'Please don't let them hurt me'

He whimpers like an injured animal, his hands shaking in your palms.

'You can do this'

You say, taking his chin between your index finger and thumb, lifting his head so you can see into those broken blue eyes. You smile, have no idea what that will bring but you can't keep the mood like this, so desultory, so dark. He needs belief, something he doesn't have a lot in himself so you need to give it to him. And you do believe in him, think he is the strongest boy you have ever and will ever meet.

The boy nods reluctantly, really doesn't want to do this and you feel slightly guilty, feel like you've forced him into doing it. You shuffle a little closer and widen your legs until Steven is sat between them, keep both of his hands firmly in yours until the nurse is setting up behind him.

'Don't let me look at it'

He says with conviction, knows he'll freak out if he sees the size of it.

'I won't. You just look at me okay?'

He nods and does as he's told, looks you dead in the eye and you can see it, lurking beneath, how scared he is. But it's the unknown, something everyone is scared of. You give him a final kiss before the nurse lifts up his shirt and finds the appropriate location.

'Before I start, I need you to stay as still as possible okay?'

Steven nods again, doesn't want to talk, just wants this over and with as soon as possible.

'You okay?'

You ask, shuffling a little closer despite it being impossible because you're already within millimetres of him.

'Yeah'

He dips his head and rests it on your shoulder, closes his eyes and waits for the pain that he knows is coming. You thread your fingers through his hair, the other hand circling his shoulders because you have a feeling he'll struggle. The nurse pulls a needle out from a plastic coating and you nearly choke on your own air supply because of how big it is. You look over at Mr Price yet he's staring out of the window, can't even bare to look.

'This may hurt a little bit but you have to keep still'

Before Steven can even reply, she's shoved the needle deep into his skin and the boy screams, loud and ear piercing, white noise that cracks the walls and has the ability to bring down a building. You tighten your arm around his shoulders to try and keep him still, try and restrain him but he's struggling mightily against you, is crying and choking out pleas of mercy. He's punching you, wants you off him so he can pull the thing out himself but you can't let that happen, know that this is for his own good.

'No! Please get it out it hurts! Brendan make it stop!'

You croon words of comfort into his ear, kiss the side of his face in the hope that he'll forgive you for doing this, for holding him down and letting him live through this torture. The nurse is also trying to sooth him, is telling him that it'll be over in a minute, that the pain will stop.

'You have to keep still. We're nearly done. Nearly done.'

'Please just take it out of him. Stop hurting him'

You beg, tears fit to roll down your cheeks. He's sobbing profusely into you, mumbling incoherently into your chest and he's starting to give in, to the pain, to the fact that you're evil for helping the nurse hurt him. He's strong but he knows that he doesn't stand a change against your strength.

'It's okay. It's all done'

The woman says, taking the needle out of Steven's back and disconnecting the tube filled with liquid and blood. It makes you feel nauseous because moments ago, that was inside Steven's body.

'Come here'

You say, fighting back your emotion and lifting Steven's weakened body into your lap. He circles his arms around your neck and sobs, tightens his legs around your waist in the hope that no one else will touch him apart from you. The nurse straps down a small dressing over the puncture wound to stop the bleeding. You ignore that though, only focus holding the boy until he stops crying.

'I'll be back in a minute. Well done'

The nurse says, rubbing her hand tentatively on Steven's shoulder and smiling at you. Again, you feel strangely angry. It's alright for her to smile. She wasn't the one who just went through agony, searing amounts of pain for something so little. It seemed like it lasted forever, but in reality, putrid, vile reality, it only lasted about twenty seconds. Twenty seconds too long.

'You okay?'

You ask after a few more minutes of holding him. His choked cries have come to an end and he's silent now, is trying to breath through the torment.

'Never let them do that to me again'

He whimpers, young and high pitched like a child, so vulnerable and helpless.

'I'm sorry'

You whisper in return, pulling away and kissing him to accentuate your apology, want him to know that that was no easier for you than it was for him. He kisses you back, thankfully isn't angry at you for doing what you did, doesn't see you as evil but that is how you will continue to see yourself.

The nurse comes back in a little moment later with a clip board in hand and something unrecognisable in the other.

'Okay, so I've booked you in with Oncology, Doctor Jones will be the one attending to your case. We'll see you at 12:00 next Friday but in the mean time you're going to have to wear this. It's a neck brace which will inhibit over activity of your neck, and that will stop your joints from rubbing and help prevent the tumour from inflaming or swelling. Wear it as much as you can, but take half an hour intervals every few hours. Make sure you rest during those periods of time okay?'

'Okay'

Steven replies as he climbs out of your lap and pulls down the back of his shirt, wincing slightly at the pain that still lurks. The nurse puts the neck brace on him and shows him how to put it on and take it off himself, explains he should refrain from too much walking and physical activity. Pricey is listening in too, his eyes red from where he broke down during Steven's Lumbar puncture. This whole experience has been hard on all of you.

'So, you're free to go'

The nurse says with a polite smile on her face. She senses the tension, realises that smiling is the last thing that any of you want to do right now, especially after that ordeal. You all walk out of the room and towards the exit of the building after saying pleasant words of goodbye and thanking the doctors.

It's a relief when you get outside. That room was starting to suffocate you, made your throat feel constricted. The cool breeze is welcoming against your hot skin and you feel like you can breath again.

'I'll drop you home'

Mr Price says, uclocking his car door and climbing inside. You and Steven do the same, drive back to his house in silence although he hasn't let go of your hand once. You don't think he plans to either. It is a Friday after all and tonight, after everything that's happened, you don't plan on going home, don't want to go home. Your presence isn't needed there and the pub is covered in terms of staff.

When you reach Steven's house, you feel relieved even further because this is the one place where you can be yourself and not feel ashamed. Everywhere else you have to hide, are forced to cower in fear of what people might think because that was how you were raised, people's opinions meaning everything. All of you climb out of the car and walk towards the house in silence, still no words exchanged.

It's Danny who opens the door and he practically snatches the boy out of your grip and pulls him into a long, tight embrace, his eyes closed but he looks like he has been crying, must have heard the news from Liam. You and Pricey nudge past him, get a look at the faces of Kyle and Jamie and they too have dark bags underneath their eyes.

'You okay?'

Danny asks and Steven just nods, takes hold of your hand and drags you up the stairs without a word to the others.

'Wait... Steven wait... You need to talk to them'

'I don't wanna talk about it'

He snaps, throwing open the door to his bedroom and yanking you inside ruthlessly, slamming it shut behind you. He takes hold of a clump of your shirt and pins you to the door, starts kissing you and rubbing his body against you, quick and fast paced and you have no idea what the fuck is going on. His hand runs down your torso and slips inside your trousers, starts to rub against your dick through the material of your boxers.

'Stop. Stop'

You say, gently pushing him away from you and pulling his hand out of your trousers.

'What's wrong?'

He asks, stepping towards you again and pressing his groin against your hips, his hands firmly on your waist, his lips hovering over your neck.

'Steven, no.'

You push him away again, harder this time but not aggressive. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, finds this funny. How is any of this funny?

'What so I have cancer and now you don't wanna have sex with me?'

He blasts, throwing his arms messily and scowling at you like you've offended him. Is he serious? That is not the reason at all. You can never stop thinking about his body, golden and lean and toned, subtle yet flexible. This is simply the wrong time, today's events simply being a mood kill.

'What? No! It's just... sex with me isn't going to solve this. You can't just use it to take your mind off it. That isn't the way things work'

'Who said I was doing that in the first place?'

Steven argues, his lip jutting out into that childish yet sexy pout. You walk towards him and bring him into a hug because the whole thing still hasn't sunk in yet. He can't stay in denial, needs to face up to this because it isn't something he can escape.

'I _always_ want you Steven. I can't get enough of you.'

'Please'

He whispers, hooking his fingers into the rim of your trousers, minutely tugging, wants you so badly but you can't. Not now. Just want to sit with him, talk, kiss. You shake your head and dip in towards him, gently press your lips to his and he responds immediately, stands on his tip toes, arms wrapped around your neck, body so close that you feel pleasantly claustrophobic. Your hands slip underneath his t-shirt, not to undress him, just to intimately touch, want to feel his warmth against your palm. He pulls you down onto his bed and lies back, brings you down on top of him and you simply kiss for hours, swipe your tongue against his neck and chew on his pulse point. You both get insanely hard, your erections digging against one another but this moment is so slow and private that you manage to ignore it.

The lads don't disturb you, know all the details of what is wrong. They leave you and Steven alone which you're thankful of because, despite this moment, there's still tension. You know that the boy's patience is wearing thin some what, know he just wants to be treated normally like he was before but you feel the need to handle him delicately.

Within a few hours, Steven is asleep, stripped down to his boxers and tucked underneath the duvet. You simply watch as he sleeps, find it strangely peaceful. His eyes flicker, his chest gently rises and falls and his body twitches and jerks like he's being pumped with small electrical impulses. It makes you chuckle. You've never had the chance to gaze upon his beauty this closely and you take the time to do so. You notice that he has a scar on his forehead and just above his lip but it is deviously concealed by his golden skin tone. Those only add to his perfection.

You climb out of your own clothes, want and need to sleep because you feel drained and tomorrow you have to prepare yourself for your shift. It always seems like hell the night before, you wake up dreading it. You slip back into Steven's bed and gently pull him on top of you, love having him like his, so close, skin on skin. The novelty still hasn't worn off yet, having him be able to touch you and not feel disgusting or ugly. To this day, he still treats your back gently, refrains from scratching and pinching as much as he can, although when you've fucked him, he's dug his nails in on a number of occasions but it didn't bother you. You loved it, found it insanely pleasurable.

You stroke your hands up and down the boy's back to sooth him from his stirring, your fingers brushing over the dressing and it makes you halt your actions straight away because you think, for a moment, that you might have hurt him. But he calms down, kisses your chest and falls straight back to sleep.

* * *

You wake up with your body tingling, a shiver shooting down your spine, jumping between your synapses. All of the wires in your head are muddled up. Is this a dream? Your toes are curling, hips are lifting involuntarily and the next thing you know, you're viciously spunking, an orgasm rippling through you, inner muscles contracting and you're trying to cry out in pleasure but there's a hand over your mouth. You throw your head back into the pillow and let it play out, the come down hitting you like a hammer between the eyes and then suddenly, Steven's head pops up from underneath the duvet and he's smiling.

'Morning'

He croons, chewing on your ear lobe and removing his hand from over your mouth. You slide a hand round the back in his head and pull him into a kiss and your thoughts are confirmed. You can taste yourself on his tongue, sticky and sweet. The little fucker woke you up with a blow job, not that you're complaining, it's just, you've never been woken like that before.

'Best wake up call I've ever had'

You mumble against his lips, a smile etching on your face.

'I should do it more often?'

He asks, innocent and sweet and he licks inside your mouth again, deep and circling, his tongue ghosting the roof of your mouth. You hum in confirmation, your hips still jerking slightly as you kiss him.

'Brendan'

Steven says, his tone changed and face serious when he pulls away. You don't answer, you simply wait for him to talk.

'This is gunna be my last day at the pub'

You feel like your world is slowly beginning to collapse. He can't leave you, can't dump you there alone back with that monster.

'I'm sorry but you heard what the nurse said. I can't do too much walking or exercise in case-'

'It's fine. Don't worry about it'

You cut him off, knew this conversation would happen at some point. You only hoped and dreamed that it wouldn't. You attempt to get out of bed but he pulls you back, has a firm hold of your wrist.

'No don't walk away from me. I don't want to leave you there with him right, but I don't have a choice and you know that. I'll tell him myself and I'll come back when I get better or something'

He's making excuses, is trying to stop you from going off on one all day. He's saying anything that will calm you, give you the slightest bit of reassurance that you're not alone. You will be when he leaves.

You sigh and bring him into another kiss, tentative this time and apologetic. You can't keep rejecting him like this, acting like a dick when you don't get your way.

'It's fine. You do what you have to do and... Whatever you decide... I'll be right behind you. But right now, I have to get home, change and open the pub. Last nights staff have probably left it in a state. No doubt my da will get me on scrubbing duty'

You climb out of bed in search for your clothes, are having to change back into your school uniform because you didn't bring a different set of clothes with you. The boy watches you as you dress and suddenly your back starts to sting, burns as if set alight.

'Ow... Fuck'

You curse, wiggling your shoulders in the hope that it'll calm down.

'Here'

You turn and see Steven rummaging through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of bio-oil, hops out of bed, still half naked, unscrews the cap and pours some into his palm before delicately rubbing your back with it. The combination of the liquid and his warm hands makes you melt, feels so good against your skin. It stops the burning immediately as he dribbles more oil down the contours of your shoulders, as he circulates his hands and rubs deep.

'Where did you get that?'

You ask, curious as to how he got his hands on it and why.

'I got it for you in case you needed it. Made Danny to get me some a couple of weeks back.'

His fingers dip into some of the deep scars. It still makes you feel disgusting, ugly, but knowing he has accepted you for it gives you the strength to live with it. He's covered all areas within a matter of minutes and he helps you back into your shirt, tries to stop it from sticking but to no avail.

'Thank you'

You mutter, scrambling with the buttons on your shirt to try and hide it. Steven's hands then cover your own and he does them up for you because you're all fingers and thumbs. When he finishes with your shirt, he gets dressed himself and slips into his neck brace, analyses himself in the mirror and frowns when he catches sight of your reflection.

'I look like a right prat!'

He curses, is about to rip the thing off but you dart over to him and prevent him from doing so.

'No. You have to keep it on. Besides, you look cute and... Restricted'

You say suggestively with a lift of your brows.

'Restricted eh? Are you hinting at something Brendan Brady?'

He asks, playing dumb and innocent minded as he wraps his arms around your waist and cups your bum in his hands.

'I might have been. What of it?'

'Were you suggesting that you... Restrict me in bed? Tie my hands to the bed post, blindfold me, gag me'

You close your eyes and picture it with a contented smile on your face. It's a beautiful image, Steven strapped down, helpless, completely at your command. You could do whatever you want to him.

'We definitely have to try that out'

You say, excited already, a buzz in the pit of your stomach and blood rushing to your groin. He smilies mischievously, all plush lips and gleaming white teeth. You kiss him on the lips and lead him out of his room, can't help staring at him because despite the brace around his neck, he's still beautiful, unchanged.

You're met by Kyle, Liam, Jamie and Danny when you get down stairs, all of them watching T.V. You walk in, hand in hand and all of the lads turn to look at Steven, obviously have questions running through their head although, Liam should know everything, will know what treatment Steven will have, how extensive it will be.

'How you feeling?'

Jamie asks as he stands and brings Steven into a hug. He looks rough, his eyes blood shot and hair mussed in every direction.

'I'm fine. Can I pinch a fag?'

He is fine, has dealt with this extremely well considering. Any other person would have locked themselves away for days, wouldn't have shown their face.

'No. No smoking. You have to quit'

Liam says from his position on the other side of the room, not once averting his eyes from the T.V. He can't bare to look at Steven, is too hurt, too broken to do so. They all are.

'What!? Why?'

Steven blasts, his patience finally blowing through the roof, something you expected because his emotions have been building since yesterday afternoon.

'Because it'll make you worse. Smoking aids the production of mutated cells.'

Liam stands up and takes the packet of cigarettes out of Jamie's pocket and begins to rip the poisonous sticks apart, dropping the tobacco in the bin.

'No hey! What you doing?!'

Jamie screams, tries to lunge forward and snatch them back but is caught around the waist by Danny.

'If there's no cigarettes in the house, then Ste can't be tempted. You're quitting too'

'Fuck off! I'm not quitting!'

Jamie is undoubtedly strong, but Danny is stronger, is using the majority of his strength to stop his twin from ripping Liam's head off.

'Ste has cancer Jamie! Smoking will make him worse, whether that is passive or not! Stop being so fucking selfish! You're quitting whether you like it not otherwise you can move out!'

Liam shouts at the top of his lungs, viciously throws the last of the cigarettes in the bin. Steven's grip tightens on your hand and you can tell he's angry with one glance at his face. You squeeze back but he's about to blow and there's nothing you can do to stop it, a volcano ready to erupt and destroy anything in its path.

'Shut the fuck up! All of you! I didn't ask for you to make this about me! I don't _want_ this to be about me. I have cancer for fuck sake. I'm not dead so stop moping around as if I'm six feet under. I'll quit smoking if that's what you want, but don't start treating me like I'm five years old and completely incapable of doing anything for myself!'

In a strange way, you're proud of him, proud that he's finally stuck up for himself and decided to not be degraded into the child of the house. Everyone remains in silence, Jamie's struggling coming to an immediate halt. Kyle is still sat on the sofa, is making it his mission to keep his eyes on the T.V because all of this is too much for him. You can see that his eyes are swelling with tears, that all of this is tearing them apart.

'Ste, we're only trying to help-'

'Well you're not doing a very good job! The only person who has helped me is Brendan! It was _him_ who was there yesterday when I had a needle shoved my spine. Where were you lot? Eh?'

You know you shouldn't, but you feel a strange sense of pride that you've done the best so far, are finally doing something right. You shift your gaze awkwardly about the room, now feel like you're under an intense, knife like glare.

'I came to see you-'

Liam starts, but is again, cut off by Steven.

'Yeah and then you left. You left me to be prodded and poked and stabbed. Where were the rest of you? I didn't see _any_ of your faces, so don't you dare say you're trying to help, because you haven't put in the slightest bit of effort'

All of them wear expressions of guilt, including Danny, who is usually too indulged in his pride to admit that he's wrong.

'I have to go'

You say with a small tug on Steven's hand and he leads you out of the living room towards the front door, stands his ground. You don't get a word of departure from any of them, not that you expected it.

'Will you be okay?'

You ask as you're about to take your leave. He nods his head with pursed lips and a locked jaw, maybe thinks he's been a bit harsh on his house mates but you think otherwise. He was right. None of them were there, they left you and Steven to handle things by yourself.

'I'll be fine. Thank you for staying with me yesterday.'

'Promised I'd never leave you. Something I intend to stand by.'

You say with justification and truth because it is something you want to stand by. You've made and broken too many promises, not only to other people but to yourself. You're not going to break another, especially when it holds more importance. It brings a smile to his face and to yours and you give him a final kiss before leaving. You have to lean further down to do so because his neck brace doesn't allow him a lot of movement but you don't care.

'See you in an hour yeah?'

He nods as best he can and you wonder off, down the street towards the pub with a smile on your face, mind drifting back and expanding on the vision Steven gave you earlier about having him tied to the bed. It sends a thrill through your veins, rebelliousness, a certain kink that you never realised you liked.

When you get to the pub, you rummage in your pocket for the set of keys, yet halt immediately when you realise that the door is already open. You peer wearily through the gap to see if there is an intruder, but your heart sinks when you see your dad propped up on a stool, a bottle of whiskey in hand. You can't help thinking how things would be better, easier if it _was_ a burglar. You could handle that perfectly fine.

He senses your presence despite the fact that you entered quietly.

'Where have you been all night boy? I waited up'

He slurs, gruff and deep and intoxicated. But he's only just getting started, is far from the pictured result that usually gets painted by the end of the night. A shiver runs down your spine. He was obviously in _the mood_ last night. He wouldn't wait up for any other reason. You're just thankful that your decision to stay with Steven payed off.

'Just went out. Had a few drinks'

You say, need any excuse and that's the first thing that comes to mind.

'That so?'

He swivels on his stool to look at you, face shadowed by the lack of light, only the curve of his jaw and outline of his fingers in visible view.

'Come here'

He says, low and putrid with secret intention but you don't have it in you to refuse. He's high and mighty on his throne, a ruler in his kingdom and all peasants below must follow the rules otherwise they suffer the consequences.

You walk towards him but stop a few feet away, aren't going to give him all of the benefits. Your promise to Steven is being put to the test here, you can feel it in the atmosphere, what your dad is planning.

_You have to promise, that if your dad tries to hurt you, you stick up for yourself.__  
_

Those words keep running through your head, over and over, like a broken record but you can feel the strength building in every cell, the courage expanding in your gut. Your dad stands and your breath hitches in anticipation because you don't know what guard you're going to have to put up.

He goes to touch your face but you move away, shock yourself because you have never done that before.

'Don't touch me'

You say, are warning him because the strength is overloading, is at a dangerous level. You could never control how weak you were, and now you can't control the strength that you're gaining.

His reflexes defeat you and in a blink of an eye, he has his hand around your throat and you're flat on your back, the hard concrete underneath you, chilling your spine. He's strangling you, fingers squeezing around your windpipe and digging into your jugular, blood and pressure building in your head and you're gasping for breath.

_You have to promise, that if your dad tries to hurt you, you stick up for yourself_

_You have to promise, that if your dad tries to hurt you, you stick up for yourself_

_You have to promise, that if your dad tries to hurt you, you stick up for yourself_

The next thing you know, he isn't on top of you anymore. _You_ are on top of _him_, your knuckles and his nose covered in blood. Every inch of you is shaking, your hands, thighs, a tick in your cheek, teeth bared like an animal. You're using every inch of self control to prevent yourself from beating the shit out of this piece of scum, know that too many questions will be asked by Cheryl.

'You are never, _ever _going to touch me again'

You spit, saliva spraying out of your mouth onto his face. He's breathing erratically, is just as confused as you are as to what's happened. You climb off him and stumble back against the bar, hands still balled into fists because you don't know whether he is going to lunge for you. The power is disappearing as quickly as it came but you've never felt so strong in all of your life, feel like you could climb a mountain and not be out of breath, lift a car and not tear a single muscle.

He simply gets to his feet and wipes his nose with the back of his hand, curls his fingers around the neck of the bottle of whiskey he held before and storms out of the pub, slams the door so hard that the glass panes almost crack.

* * *

**Ste's P.O.V**

The boys haven't said a single word to you since your outburst. Haven't ignored you as such but have simply been too afraid to say anything. This neck brace is pissing you off, _everything_ is pissing you off; this silence, being treated differently by everyone just because you're ill. You might die, saw it on the nurse's face. She didn't look like she had a lot of hope about radiotherapy, obviously thought that it'd be of minimal help.

Deep down, you're scared as hell. You don't want to lose your hair, don't want to be bedridden for days on end because you're too weak to move. You _have_ to do well in your exams, make your name known so you can prove to your parents that you're not a waste of space. You don't want their praise, just want to rub their faces in it, leave them behind to eat your dust.

You leave the house without saying goodbye, want to leave them all to their thoughts because they obviously don't know how to handle you, have never had experience with this before. Danny has a baby on the way so he has to think of Sarah as well as his work, Liam is at University and working in the hospital and needs to focus on his exams, Kyle works all day every day in his office and is under a lot of pressure to get a promotion, and Jamie is busy with his job and art college. Maybe they don't have time for you.

You walk down the street, thinking of how things will go while you have your treatment, who will take care of you, but you guess you're going to have to take care of yourself. Keith will bring you any school work that you request, will be able to work his way around moderators and exam boards because he's high up in that department. You know one thing is for certain. You'll have Brendan every step of the way.

You enter the pub when you arrive and it's still empty, thankfully shows you're not late because you weren't really keeping track of time. Brendan is behind the bar, leaning, arms folded over the wooden counter with his head between his shoulders.

'Hey'

You greet chirpily, are thankful to be back with him but he doesn't respond, is as still as a statue. Then you notice something dark and wet on his knuckles and you don't know what it is until you step a little closer. Blood.

'What's this?!'

You take hold of his wrist and try to make him look at it but he doesn't, keeps his head bowed, all eye contact broken.

'I did it'

He mumbles, dark and desultory and it scares you. You've never heard him like this.

'Did what?'

'I took the power back'

He says as he lifts his head, a psychotic smile on his face. You gulp at the delusional sight in front of you, take a couple of steps back because you remember his unpredictability, despite how much that percentage of change has decreased.

'He tried to hurt me... And I did it. I hit him back'

His eyes lose all craze straight away when he looks at you, is instead flooding with remorse and guilt. You huff a laugh, feel stupid in thinking that he'd go on some strange rampage. You go around the bar and take him into your arms, kiss his forehead and croon into his ear, hot and soothing;

'Don't feel guilty. You did it Brendan, and you can do it again. Never let him hurt you'

He circles his strong arms around you and practically lifts you off the floor, whispers, so low that you almost don't hear but the tones are fathomable.

'I kept my promise'

You smile, because he's proud of himself. And you are proud of him too. Because, despite how physically strong he is, you've seen what Seamus has done, seen what he can do and the hold he has. It isn't something you can break on Brendan's behalf though.

You're about to kiss him, but customers suddenly come flooding in and automatically, you're swept off your feet. You pour hundreds of pints and shots in a matter of minutes, have notes flashed and waved in your face. The noise picks up as more people come in and Brendan is whispering time and time again into your ear 'Don't worry. I got this one. Take it easy'. You're annoyed on one half because you know how to do your job and you _want_ to be able to do your job, but on the other, you know he's right. You can't risk making yourself worse, that's the whole reason you're leaving.

The hours rush by, each of which you have a fifteen minute break because you're getting exhausted and breathless. You take your neck brace off and give your neck a twist and a wiggle, hear the odd click of your joints. Brendan brings you drinks while you have a sit down, goes out of his way to serve you despite the fact there's a queue at the bar.

In spite of your interventions, you work as hard as you can, have a few people staring and asking about your neck brace but you don't tell them the truth, don't see how it is any of their business and soon enough, your shift is over as quick as it started. Again, Brendan has loaded it upon himself to wipe down all of the tables and clean the glasses, restock and fill up on ice and lemons. You feel guilty but he insisted, physically sat you down himself and told you not to move.

'When will your dad be back?

You ask, getting up and out of your seat to sit on one of the stools by the bar.

'Dunno. Probably gone out to get slaughtered'

Brendan mutters, obviously doesn't want to talk about Seamus because of what happened earlier but you don't understand why he'd want to keep that quiet. Surely this is his time to stand up and scream about how he finally stuck up to his abusive father. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

'I'll stick around a little longer, see if he comes back so I can tell him'

You lower your head so you're staring at the wooden top of the bar, subtly pick at some of the varnish work with your nails as a pass time. The room is silent, only the sound of towel rubbing against glass filling the empty space.

Brendan's hand comes underneath your jaw unexpectedly, lifts your head and you're greeted by his lips, soft and warm and wet and delicious. You let out a groan and snake your hand around the back of his head, want him to kiss you harder and he does, is starting to get vicious but you like it rough. He gracefully jumps over the bar and slips between the gap in your legs, presses his lips to yours again and chews on your bottom lip, a light dragging of teeth against your flesh that makes your breath hitch and dick harden.

'Interrupting am I ladies?'

Brendan's lips are forced away from yours and his hands leave your waist. There's a delay in opening your eyes but when you do, Brendan is pale like a corpse beside you, the pulse in his neck fluttering a mile a minute. You follow his eyeline and see Seamus stood by the door, one arm against the frame, the other wrapped around Cheyl who appears to be supporting him. Her eyes are wide, knew that you and Brendan didn't want Seamus to find out. She too is sceptical of what's about to happen, knows there's a dark side in her father. She just doesn't know how dark it is.

He stumbles forward into the centre of the room, his nose bloody and you wonder whether that was caused by Brendan or whether he got into another fight. Cheryl does her best to keep her father up right, is strained due to how much weight he is resting on her.

'You'

He says, dark and gruff and he's pointing right at you.

'Little faggot! Turning my son into a queer!'

Brendan stands in front of you, is so large and broad that you have to peer around him.

'Don't ever talk to him like that. Or do you want another smack in the nose?'

Cheryl's eyes widen, obviously thought that the wound had come from a brawl with another drunk.

'You did this Bren?'

She asks, doe eyed and innocent, appalled at how her brother could harm his own dad.

'Yeah. You want me to tell her why da?'

Brendan challenges, his body still guarding you, protecting you from Seamus' scrutiny.

'Or maybe I already knew. Maybe, I knew that you were a fairy this whole time!'

The older, drunk man shouts, his arms spread like Jesus on the cross, thinks himself as some sort of angel. The only angel he is, is the Devil himself.

'Dad! You can't say that about Brendan!'

Cheryl hisses, her side seeming to change with every exchange of words.

'And how did you get that neck brace eh Steven? Sucking too much dick? Strain yourself?'

'Yeah he's been sucking mine! What you gunna do about it Da?'

Brendan shouts, isnt making this any easier for either of you but in a strange way, you're enjoying this. You catch Cheryl's gaze through the gap in Brendan's arm. Her eyes are tearful. With one look, you can tell that she knows and she mouths _You okay babe? I'm so sorry. _You simply nod because you _are_okay, might not be in a weeks' time but for the moment, you're fine.

Suddenly your vision is obscured. Brendan is hauled away from you and the two are fighting, Brendan's fist landing on Seamus' face, Seamus' fist landing in Brendan's gut. Blood is splashing from both men and landing on the clean floor, Cheryl is screaming at the top of her lungs for both of them to stop but everything is happening far too quickly. You jump up and try to get between them, are small and weak in comparison but you can't just sit back and watch.

'Stop! Brendan stop!'

You hook your arms around his waist and try to rugby tackle him but it's no use. He's too strong. Then, out of the blue, a hand is on your shoulder and you're whirled around on the spot.

'This is your fault you little faggot!'

Seamus' fist cracks against your lip, flesh splitting, tearing underneath his knuckles and you fall to the floor. It swells immediately, you can feel it pulsing underneath your skin. All of the commotion comes to an abrupt halt, as does Cheryl's screaming and Brendan is hunched over you, his hands not knowing where to touch or whether to touch you at all.

You stand up without his aid, one hand still pressed against your lip.

'I was waiting, to tell you that I'm quitting. I have cancer, Mr Brady, but I guess you're going to tell me, that fags like me deserve it. You can shove your job up your ass and while we're at it-' You reach for a discarded pint that still lingers on one of the tables and your pour it over Seamus' head. 'You can have that as well'

You walk out of the door, leave Cheryl wide eyed and silent, torn between who she is meant to choose. You- Her best friend, Brendan- Her brother or Seamus- Her father. The streets are dark and it's late. You're power walking home, need your bedroom, need the silence in order to think things through. Brendan is behind you, is having to jog in order to keep up, but he has obviously chosen you over both Seamus _and_ Cheryl.

'I'm sorry'

He whispers when he catches up, thinks this is his fault.

'Don't be.'

You're home within a matter of minutes, force open the door and head straight to the freezer for a packet of peas to put on your lip. All of the lads crowd around you, are firing questions like bullets in a gun, so quick, and loud and all noise is merging into one.

'What happened?'

'It doesn't matter. Danny keep away from Brendan. I swear to god if you touch him, I'll cut off your willy right?'

You raid the freezer, have no peas so you hold an ice lolly to your lip instead, lean against the counter and you finally get a look at Brendan's face. His nose is bloody and eye is slighty swollen. It looks like Seamus got the worse of it. You reach out a hand for him and he comes over, intertwines your fingers and leans next to you, is completely silent.

'But what happened to your face? Both of you?'

Jamie asks.

'Brendan's dad found out about me and him. Then he took the piss outta me and my neck brace, called me a fag and said I turned Brendan gay. Then Brendan went ape shit and they got into a fight. Seamus merrily decided to punch me in the face'

You say, quick and cut short, can't be asked to go through _who said what _etc etc.

'Right that's it'

Danny spits, his face red, eyes scarlet with anger as he pivots on one foot and heads straight for the door.

'Wait! Where you going?!'

You ask, shooting forward and stepping in front of him so he can't take another step.

'I'm gunna beat that scum bag to shit. Look at what he's done to the two of you!'

Danny shouts, wild and fierce. He's pointing back towards Brendan's face, and his sudden want to protect Brendan _as well_ _as_ you warms your heart. You always thought he hated the Irishman, probably did at first but now, it's a completely different story. It's like he understands Brendan's torment, sees why he was scared at the start and did what he did to push you away. Danny suddenly realises what he's said and lowers his arm, blinks a couple of times to compose himself.

'Look at what he's done to you'

He never wanted you to know, didn't want you to think he... Liked Brendan because Danny is a man of principal. If someone hurts somebody close to him, then they get a load of shit. Maybe he hated Brendan because he couldn't stand the thought of liking him, of wanting to keep him safe from the monster that he knew was Seamus.

'Don't.'

You say in all seriousness, know he can't reject you anything. You don't know what could happen either if he went storming over and beat Seamus to a pulp, don't know what could happen to Brendan_or_Cheryl. Danny lowers his gaze and minutely nods, goes over to the kitchen table and sits in order to calm himself down.

'So you punched your old man in the face eh? That's a good one that!'

Jamie praises, slapping Brendan on the side of the arm with a wide smile on his face.

'Shut up Jamie. Come on Bren.'

You say, reaching out a hand, waiting for the older boy to take it.

'Was just trying to lighten the mood. Miserable fuckers the lot of you'

Jamie sulks, walking back into the living room and flopping himself onto the sofa as if he has lost all purpose in life. He makes you chuckle with his idiotic and unadulterated humour, find that he can always lighten a mood, even if it is inappropriate.

You lead Brendan to your room, are going to get what you asked for last night and you won't take no for an answer this time. You still have the ice lolly pressed to your lip and intend to use it as a persuasive technique. He flops onto your bed and watches you close the door and lock it, his eyes brows raising in disbelief that you could want sex at a time like this.

'Steven-'

'Shh'

You peel off the plastic coating of your ice lolly and start to sensually lick around the tip, see him shift uncomfortably as you do so, as he realises what you're doing. You crawl onto the edge of the bed and get onto your knees, be brave and tip your head back and allow the cylinder ice stick to slide down your throat. It's freezing cold, obviously, but it has the desired affect. You bring it out and suck on the end, see Brendan is starting to sport a hard on.

'Wanna lick of my lolly?'

You ask, sliding your tongue up the shaft as you watch his eyes pop out of his head.

'I _definitely_ wanna lick your lolly'

He says, has to clear his throat whilst doing so and you lean forward, straddle his hips and tip his head back with the aid of your index and middle. You slide the lolly into his mouth and watch him slurp it down, every inch down to this stick. Some of the juice slips down his chin and you catch it with your tongue, have never seen anything so hot in your entire life. You pull it out of his mouth with a pop, eyes wide and dick hard, so aroused at seeing him do that. Hormones are thrumming through your body, are making your heart go sky high and skin prickle with a light layer of sweat. You take off your neck brace and throw it across the room with a thud, tip your head even further back and do it again, deep-throat and suck loudly until you need to breath again.

'Got a little bit of a hard on there'

You say, walking your fingers up Brendan's thigh and cupping his dick in your hand, rubbing and squeezing and pulling, making his breath get caught in his wind pipe.

'Yeah. Got this little twink playing with my dick'

He replies with a flick of his eyebrows, so crude and vulgar yet so slick and sensual.

'You calling me scrawny?'

You gasp, almost offended but he simply pulls you closer to him and starts to undo your trousers, popping your button and undoing your zip whilst he looks up at you and smiles, devious and dark.

'I like you this way'

He croons, smooth like velvet and he pulls down your trousers, over and around your arse, boxers and all and let's your dick spring free from the confines, hard and pink and plush in all its glory.

'Are you sure you wanna do this?'

He asks, suddenly nervous.

'Brendan. Seriously? My dick can still function properly for fuck sake'

Before you can finish your quip, Brendan is sucking you off, his hot mouth wrapped around your foreskin, slurping and licking and fuck it feels so good, makes your whole body twitch at the sudden wave of pleasure that shoots down your spine. He takes you down bit by bit, one hand massaging your balls, tugging and rolling, his other hand at the base of your cock, squeezing hard and moving in time with the bobbing of his head. You slide a hand round, comb your fingers through his thick hair and start to fuck his mouth relentlessly, force your dick down his throat until he's nearly choking but you know he can handle it, know that he loves it. He shoves his tongue into the slit and licks it out, makes your balls fill with more pressure, makes you want your orgasm even more because this is torture, feeling this good, being so close to that cliff edge and not being able to jump off.

You're about to cum already, after mere minutes of Brendan giving you head and you're tense and shaking but his hand squeezes the base of your dick so hard that it stops you from shooting your load.

'Let go. Let go!'

You cry, try to fumble with his hand, want and need to cum so badly because the orgasm is at it's high, is _almost _there, so close to being perfect and vicious but Brendan's grip doesn't loosen, stops you from spunking and you're nearly sobbing.

He delves into the draws of your bedside cabinet, knows that is where you keep your condoms and lube. He frantically climbs out of his trousers and throws them to the side, quickly slips on the condom and squirts himself with lube, makes himself slick and smooth and he, without warning, slips a finger inside of you, makes you scream with immense pleasure, a scream that you try and fail to quieten. He curls his instrument, angles it so perfectly and starts to rub the spot that makes your body quiver and burn, makes you feel so good that it nearly paralyses you.

'You like that? Huh?'

He asks, so full of filth, a rhetorical question no doubt because he knows you love it but you have to answer anyway.

'Yeah. Fuck yeah'

You mumble painfully as you lift his shirt over his head and strip yourself of your own, need that skin on skin contact, need to feel his heat, feel closer. You lick up his collar bone as he fingers you deep to the knuckle, slide your tongue into the dip of his throat and suck on patches of his neck, his stubble prickling against your cheek. You rotate your hips around his finger, want to feel it rub every inch of your insides.

'Ready?'

He asks, sliding his finger out of you and pumping his own cock.

'Yeah. Hard and fast. You know how rough I like it'

You say filthily, taking a chunk of his shoulder between your teeth and chewing, want to leave your marks all over him. You're still conscious of his back, don't want to scratch and end up hurting him so you dig your nails into his forearms instead, have often cut through his skin and made him bleed, but he's often done the same to you, bitten you with such force that he's left large bruises and pierced your skin.

You sink down onto his dick and ride him, gyrate your hips in a circular motion and take him balls deep straight away. It burns, stings, but it's never felt so pleasurable, being stretched this wide. You circle your arms around his shoulders and throw your head back, love it when he bites on your neck, feel strangely masochistic. He knows the sign and he sinks his teeth into you hard, makes you grumble both in pain and pleasure as he fucks into you mercilessly. You kiss him, wet and sloppy, lick inside his mouth and let your tongues rub, chew on his bottom lip as he breathes your carbon dioxide, his eyes closed and he's such a beautiful mess, a canvas of sex and pleasure and aftermath and orgasm. The artist being you.

'Scratch me'

He gasps against your chest, one hand wrapped around you, the other behind him for support so he can get deeper into you.

'What? No. I don't wanna hurt you'

'Just do it'

He whispers desperately, sweaty and hot and flushed but you do as he asks, dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back, watch his face contort and feel his hips shudder as he spunks into latex. He bashes his head against your chest at the intensity, licks and chews and kisses your nipples whilst groaning loudly, choking out your name.

'Fuck'

He says, worn and elongated, sucks in a large breath of air as the last of it plays out, tips his head backwards for one last thrust and you dip and suck on his Adam's apple, lick every inch of his neck.

'Finger me'

You demand, won't let him focus on the come down when you are so close to cumming.

'As well?'

He asks in surprise and you simply nod, are getting impatient and you take hold of his wrist and force it around to the back of you, are so close, _so_ close. He forces in two more fingers and fucks you with them, as well as his dick, stretches you so wide and with the other hand he takes hold of you and tugs so quickly, long, hard, dragged strokes that make you shoot buckets all over him. It's so vehement that you can't even scream, can't cry out to express how good it is. Your jaw just drops and nothing comes out so you yank on his hair hard as a way of expressing _something._

You exhale deeply when it's coming to an end, press your forehead to Brendan's and attempt to breathe. The room smells of sex, thick musk that tingles all of your senses, makes your mouth water. You dip down and lick some of the cum off the Irishman's chest, moan at the sweetness and you exchange it with Brendan by sharing a tongue filled kiss with him. He's still inside of you, your inner muscles rippling around him which is making his hips jerk the smallest amount but this is how things are meant to be. He's meant to be here with you, not just on occasions but every night. You want to be coming home with him, want to wake up to his face every morning, share showers and bake and watch mushy films and play fight and argue and do what couples do.

As you push him back into the mattress and kiss him even more, fingers in his hair and hand over his heart, a question begins to materialise inside of your head.

Are you in love with Brendan Brady?

**Please leave me a little review or PM. I really want to know whether to continue and whether you liked this update. I value your support and feedback. Thank you to everyone for their dedication and praise. It's amazing!**


	17. Chapter 17

**The response I got after the last chapter was absolutely amazing. Thank you guys so much. Some of them even bought me to tears so please do keep leaving me little notes to give your say on what you'd like to happen and whether things are going the way you'd like it too. This chapter is far less eventful than the last. I'm setting down the ground in terms of Ste's medical treatment, so more drama will kick off in the next chapter, although this one is still important!**

**Ste's P.O.V**

It's hard to drift into consciousness. You've found that recently, have had to do anything and everything in order to wake yourself up, whether that be Danny splashing you with cold water, having Jamie come into your room and play music loudly next to your ear or being physically dragged out of bed by Liam and Kyle. But today it's different.

It's a hot morning and you're not sure if that is because the seasons are changing, or if it's because Brendan's warm body lies closely next to yours. His fingers are softly and gently caressing your shoulders, his breath light against the back of your neck as his lips press delicately into your skin, peppering small kisses along your flesh. His arm is wrapped firmly around you, large and broad and deliciously strong, willing to gently pull you closer so he can translate messages of adoration into every inch of you.

A groan escapes your mouth as consciousness washes over you.

'Morning.'

Brendan croons in your ear as he takes the flesh of your lobe between his teeth and gently tugs. You curl your neck because it tickles and lightly chuckle, turn over in bed and snuggle into his broad chest. His grip around you tightens ever so slightly, his fingers still brushing down the contours of your back as you try to idly fall back to sleep. You feel lazy on this Saturday morning, don't want to get up, would rather stay here all day in bed with Brendan and talk, kiss, knowing full well it'd end up with you having sex but the plan still appeals to you.

Brendan kisses your forehead and let's out a deep breath that sounds minutely irritated. You place a kiss on his chest in return and then look up towards him, your eyes burning at the brightness of the room. The curtains aren't drawn, something you always forget to do when Brendan's here, your attention focused on more important things.

'Hiya.'

You say, voice cracking after not using it for over twelve hours.

'Hey.'

He replies with a contented smile, bringing up his hand and stroking his fingers through your hair. He looks beautiful, the light reflecting and enhancing his face making him appear like a gift from the heavens. You take a moment to appreciate him, his warmth, beauty, gentility.

'What are you smiling at?'

He asks, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

'You. I just... I lov-'

You cut yourself short abruptly, every muscle freezing into place. A lump begins to rise in your throat because you want to say it but you can't, remember what he told you at the very beginning when all of this started out.

_I don't believe in love. It doesn't exist. _

He continues to stare down at you, his brows knitting together, questioning why you've suddenly frozen. You bury yourself back into his chest to hide your face, can't be pinpointed to this humiliation in saying those three little words and not having them said back.

'Hey... Steven... What's up?'

He asks, is trying to push you away so he can look at you but you cling onto him, dig your nails into his skin to stop yourself from being seen.

'Steven, look at me.'

'No.'

'Look at me.'

'No.'

He continues to struggle, is trying to unravel himself from your grip but to no avail.

'What were you going to say?'

'Nothing! It doesn't matter!'

His arms suddenly slacken in what appears to be defeat. But then he circles them around your shoulders and rolls on top of you, seizes your arms and pins them above your head so you're completely restricted with your movements, have no way out of it now and you sigh deeply, roll your eyes at how annoyingly persistent he is.

'Tell me.'

He says, rubbing his nose against your own, small and subtle domesticity which makes your chest swell. Your walls are beginning to crumble, Brendan's charm smashing down your defence.

'Give me a morning blow job and I'll think about it.'

You whisper cunningly, lifting your head and brushing your lips against his, a soft ghosting of flesh that makes his breath get stuck in his throat. He cranes his head down, is about to kiss you but you halt him with a hand on his chest.

'Wait. I need to brush my teeth.'

You say, rolling him off of you and climbing out of bed to put on a t-shirt. He sighs in annoyance, starts pulling the duvet back over himself and straightening it out, making himself comfortable.

'Why?'

'Because I don't want you to kiss me while I have morning breath. That's just gross.'

You find a pair of boxers lying on the floor and quickly chuck them on, aren't planning on staying in them long.

'Steven, I don't care about that. Come back to bed.'

'No. I always brush my teeth first thing in the morning. Come on. Get up.'

You find his shirt on the other side of the room, slung on top of his boxers carelessly. You dangle them in front of you, want to see him climb out of bed naked for the sake of seeing his gorgeous body, purely for selfish reasons. He knows what you're doing because he smiles shyly, his cheeks flushing scarlet but he goes along with it anyway, throws his legs out from underneath the duvet and stands, his muscles rippling and stretching, his cock semi hard from your flirtatious proposition.

You attempt to swallow down the lump that has formed in your throat, try to prevent yourself from salivating all over your carpet at how beautiful he is, pale and muscular, blue veins visible underneath his skin which is a strange turn on for you.

'I see what you did there.'

He says, stalking towards you and you can't prevent yourself from eyeing up every inch of him, your jaw hanging open and dick beginning to pulse with anticipation.

'Didn't do anything.'

You try to justify but your throat constricts and you nearly choke, have to clear it with a small cough.

'So you didn't deliberately refuse to give me my clothes so you could see me naked?'

He questions with his brows knitted, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk as he pulls on his shirt.

'Nope.'

He chuckles at your immaturity, climbs into his boxers and runs his fingers through his hair. You take hold if his wrist and pull him into the bathroom and automatically start cleaning your teeth, hate that dry feeling you get on your tongue every morning. He doesn't have any of his possessions with him, has never made a habit of bringing any over because it'd look suspicious to Seamus if he continued to prepare over night stay. Instead Brendan used to simply return home, made it look like he'd been out on the lash all night.

Due to his lack of toiletries, you bought him a spare toothbrush for when he stays with you, supplied him with other things that he may need as well, including hair gel, deodorant and his famous cucumber face wipes that he uses every night without fail yet continues to feel embarrassed about.

When you've cleaned your teeth and washed out your mouth with Listerine, you drag him back to your bedroom, take note of how silent the house is and assume that everyone is still in bed so therefore it must still be early. You crawl underneath the duvet into the spot that Brendan has apparently made his own, the mattress having a slight dip from your joint weights because you've gotten into a habbit of sleeping on top of him rather than next to him.

'Come and suck me off then.'

You say, peeling back the duvet and widening your legs to make room for him. He simply smiles and licks his lips, crawls into the gap between your legs and reaches up to kiss you first. You run your tongue along his lips and grumble at the minty taste, feel your dick harden as he moans into your mouth, the vibration humming down your spine and tingling every nerve. He gets onto his knees and straddles you, starts rubbing his crotch against your chest as if he can't help it, like he needs that friction to satisfy himself and Jesus, your heart is thumping against the walls of your chest like a fist against a table, a deep pound that you can physically hear.

You pull away and start pushing against his chest, want to feel his mouth around you already because your balls are aching, are desperate for release from this minor sexual interaction.

'Bit keen aren't we?'

Brendan says, his voice smooth like velvet, dark and enriched with lust.

'I did say that I wanted a blow job.'

'In exchange, for you telling what's wrong.'

'Yeah, so if you want to know so badly, why are you wasting time eh?'

You lift a single eyebrow in question, make him see your point. You love kissing him, love having him touch you in such a way that it leaves your skin tingling, but sometimes you get so desperate for him that foreplay just seems a pass time.

'I like to get you going first, make you all nervous.'

He croons as he runs a single finger down your torso, hooking it into the rim of your boxers.

'Oh yeah? And how exactly do you do that?'

'Well... first, I kiss you like this-' He reaches down to kiss you deeply, his lips soft and moist and so enticing. He licks inside your mouth, brushes the roof and rubs his tongue against yours. You can feel him smile as you let out a deep, shaky breath. He has you nervous already, shaking with anticipation and desperation, feelings that you've never been able to control. 'Then I bite that spot, the spot that I know drives you crazy-' He smirks, is fucking happy with himself that he's depriving you of what you want, what you need. He likes this, has far more self control than you do. He curls his head around and starts chewing on your neck, doesn't do it hard at first but after a few tugs of your skin, he doesn't refrain from sinking his teeth right into your flesh.

'Fuck.'

It's nothing but a light whisper, so quiet that it's almost unfathomable but he hears you and he chuckles, has you right where he wants you, close to the edge of insanity.

'Then what?'

You ask, aren't intentionally trying to rush him but you want him so badly.

'Then, I kiss every inch of you.'

He lowers his head and presses his lips to the center of your chest, plants small, sucky kisses over every part of your feverish skin. He sucks and bites on your nipples, his nails dragging over your flesh and scratching you and fuck you're so hard, can feel pre-cum leaking into your boxers.

You aid his journey by pushing down on his head gently, not only want to feel his mouth around you, but you want to see it too. You get a strange satisfaction out of watching him pleasure you, find that it makes you even more horny. He peels down your boxers, taps on your thigh signalling for you to lift your hips and you do so willingly, practically rip the obstructing material off and your dick springs free, pink and hard and slick with pre-cum.

He doesn't start sucking you off straight away, simply takes hold of your cock with in a firm grip and lifts it to expose your balls. That is what he sucks first, swipes his tongue along them and rolls them about in his mouth, draws and releases with small pops and minutely pauses for breath, hungry gasps escaping his mouth as he tugs the sensitive skin with his teeth.

You drop your head back against the wall and keep your fingers securely locked in his hair, don't want him to torture you anymore now that you've finally gotten what you wanted. The pressure continues to build, more pre-cum leaking out and dribbling down the head which Brendan catches. He stares at you with pupil blown eyes as he spits into his hand and begins pumping your dick with long, tight strokes, his thumb sliding over the tip and milking it with the delicious friction.

'Fuck me with your mouth.'

You spit filthily, smearing the head of your cock all over his lips so they glisten. He starts to suck on your foreskin as he looks at you dead in the eyes, his mouth widening and lips closing around you, tongue swiping inside the slit and licking it out and the sudden wave of pleasure shoots down your spine like an electric shock, makes your entire body jerk. His mouth is hot and wet and his tongue is textured, feels amazing as it drags along the underside as he deep throats.

You can't help but gyrate your hips and push his head up and down as he eats your cock, as he moans in delight at the taste of you and closes his eyes, completely lost in making you feel good and god do you feel good. All of your nerves are tingling, toes are curling and hairs are rising on your arms and the back of your neck, making you feel cold when in reality, you're boiling to touch.

A knock at the door interrupts you, kicks your brain into gear and you can finally string a thought together.

'Ste?'

'Fuck! It's Liam!'

You hiss, trying to push Brendan away as much as it pains you.

'Brendan stop. You have to stop.'

The amount of pleasure and ecstasy that's running through your body is making you weak, has absorbed every ounce of your energy and you don't have the strength to nudge him off, your muscles feeling like jelly.

'I ain't stopping.'

Brendan says quickly, taking a sharp breath and returning to sucking your dick. You can't think straight, are sure that your vision is obscured and your body is melting like candle wax. You do the first thing that springs to mind; throw the duvet over yourself and bend at the knees to make the bobbing of Brendan's head unnoticeable.

Liam pokes his head around the corner of the door and grins when he sees you're awake, decides that that is his cue to stroll in casually.

'Hey.'

He says, perching next to you, fiddling with his hands nervously, his thumbnail digging away at his cuticle.

'Hiya.'

You reply, are having to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from groaning as Brendan licks your perineum and sucks on your balls again.

'You okay?'

'Yeah. I'm fine.'

You almost snap at him, want him to leave as soon as possible because you're close to cumming, can feel the pressure build even further, your skin burning and sweating profusely.

'Where's Brendan?'

Liam asks, searching the room as if Brendan is going to jump out at him from behind a wall.

'Oh umm... He's gone to the toilet. Probably brushing his teeth as well. He'll be back in a minute.'

You reply, nearly getting tongue tied as you do so. You're a terrible liar, always have been and you have these certain traits that show you're being dishonest, traits that you're distinctly trying to hide. He nods and you aren't sure if he believes you because his expression is illegible, unchanged.

'I just wanted to say sorry, for being a dick and for leaving you when you were in hospital. I don't know I guess I was just scared. Didn't want to see you getting hurt.'

'It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it.'

You say, are beginning to shake and you're gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles are turning white. You're doing everything in your power to stop yourself from shooting your load, to prevent yourself from screaming in ecstasy but it's proving difficult and Brendan's pace is fast, his tongue dragging, his mouth tight and hot and he's massaging your balls with one hand and stroking your thigh with the other without a care in the world because he knows that you'd suffer the most humiliation if you spunked right now.

'So we're cool?'

'Yeah. Can't hate you forever can I?'

You say with a small, unconvincing smile. You're starting to fidget now involuntarily, are hoping to make things inconvenient for the Irishman in an attempt to starve off your orgasm because you can feel it now, feel the pressure in your balls, the heat of your skin and contraction of your inner muscles.

'You okay? You're burning up.'

Your housemate observes, pressing two fingers to your forehead and wearing a concerned expression.

'Yeah I'm okay. Just hot that's all. I'll go and take a shower in a minute. So... is that it?'

You ask, are hoping to speed up this conversation so Liam will leave.

'What do you mean?'

'Is that all you had to say?'

He looks at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing and brows raising as you try not to tear the sheets apart under your vice like grip.

'Yeah. Yeah umm... I'm gunna get some breakfast so I'll leave you to it.'

He smiles finally before getting to his feet and wondering towards your bedroom door, his bum shaking in his pyjama bottoms, something you can't help noticing and nearly drooling over because his arse is perfect; round and slappable.

'Oh and by the way, tell Brendan that I know he's giving you a blowy under the duvet. Need to work on your subtlety my friend.'

You nearly die of embarrassment, can feel your cheeks flushing red as they burn from your humiliation and you scream in protest, lift up the duvet and hide underneath it so he can't see your face which may indeed be childish but you can't exactly get up and throw him out of your room.

'Get out Liam! Get the fuck out!'

He laughs loudly and exits, closing the door behind him but your blush doesn't decrease for another minute or two. Brendan doesn't seem to care, is still sucking you off and groping your balls and apparently touching himself in the process. Your orgasm catches you off guard, your original thought being that Liam's discovery would have killed your boner but it hasn't and when you cum, it's extremely violent, shooting down Brendan's throat. You throw your fist into your mouth and chew as hard as you can to stop yourself from crying out at the onslaught, your teeth denting and cutting into your skin.

'God you taste so fucking good.'

Brendan gasps as he releases your now flaccid cock from his mouth, lunging forwards and shoving his tongue down your throat so you can taste yourself. You groan at the feel and texture of his tongue, the mixing of sticky and sweet.

You both lie under the duvet kissing for about five minutes, slow and sensual, his fingers drifting over your hot skin, your hands underneath his shirt and gently caressing the scars on his back. He doesn't flinch anymore when you touch it, in fact it makes him seem more relaxed because his body slackens against you. He still doesn't like you seeing it, will have a shirt on every time you wake up despite falling asleep naked. You've told him that it doesn't bother you, have offered to help rub his back with the oil when it's started to burn him yet he still, sometimes, refuses.

'So, you gunna tell me what's wrong?'

Fuck.

You'd hoped that he'd forgotten about that, hoped that the blow-job and kissing would have miraculously wiped his memory.

'Ummmm... Nope.'

You reply with a devilish grin. There's no way that he can get it out of you now. You haven't even been together that long, six months is indeed a long time but is it long enough to tell someone that you're in love with them? Is it too soon?

'So I sucked you off and gave you one of the best orgasms of your life, for nothing?'

'You sucked me off because I asked you to. I said I'd think about telling you and I've decided not to.'

You say smugly with a childish crossing of arms.

'You little fucker.'

He whispers, resting all of his weight in top of you and pinning your arms above your head.

'Maybe I'll keep you here until you tell me.'

'Like a slave?'

'My very own sex slave. I like the sound of that.'

He rolls his hips over your crotch when he croons that, his tongue poking out of his mouth flirtatiously. You're getting hard again, can feel the blood rushing to your groin.

'You could do whatever you wanted. Tie me up, gag me and fuck my brains out. Use and abuse me.'

His breath hitches and his body suddenly freezes. At first you think it's because the thought has made him incredibly horny, the images taking over every rational thought but then his grip tightens around your wrists, so hard that you feel the blood being cut off to your fingers. Was it something you said? What the fuck is happening?

'Brendan.'

You say, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll realise what he's doing, that his hold is too tight and you can't feel your palms.

'Ow! Brendan!'

His grip immediately loosens and he shoots out of bed, begins to frantically search for his clothes. You too get out of bed and pull up your boxers, are just watching him in shock because you don't even know what has happened, what you've said.

'Bren?'

He doesn't stop, simply throws on his trousers and searches for his socks.

'Brendan you have your trousers on the wrong way round.'

'Fuck sake.'

He curses, pulling them down and turning them so they're on correctly.

'Did I say something wrong?'

He doesn't listen to you, is still in search for all of his clothes. You stand there, partially naked, fiddling with your fingers in complete confusion. You're getting apprehensive on whether to say his name again in case he lashes out. He hasn't since the last time he hit you, but you're still cautious.

'I'm sorry. I've gotta go.'

He says once he's got his socks and jacket on, is about to head for the door but you lunge for him, take hold of his arm, twist him violently and pin him up against the adjacent wall, a clump of his clothes locked in your tight fists.

'You're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what I've done.'

You say, are horrified at how angry you suddenly feel. Not only have you had trouble waking up, but you've found that you're even more short tempered, get angry at the smallest of things.

'It's nothing.'

He says, almost sarcastically.

'Is this some kind of joke? Why do you keep being like this?'

He looks at you blankly, is beginning to shut down on you and you have no idea how to bring him back. It makes you upset when he's like this, breaks your heart because he's so abnormal, isn't staight forward or simple or easy to figure out but you guess that's why you've fallen for him. His complexity, his darkness and mysteriousness, a code that you want to crack. He's hard work but you can live with it, _want _to live with it for the rest of your life.

'It's not you. It's me okay? I just... I need to go for a walk.'

'Why do you keep pushing me away? Just let me in for once.'

'No Steven, listen to me.'

He puts both hands on your shoulders, can see how much this is distressing you.

'You've gotten further than _anyone _else. I've told and showed you things that I have never told or showed to other people. I'm just... A bit messed up and it isn't your fault so don't ever think that. I don't really know how to do this... how to talk about feelings. I just shut down and it isn't something you can do anything about. So please... Let me go for a walk and I'll come back. Let me calm down.'

You nod, still don't understand what you've done wrong, what you've said to somehow make him angry. He gives you a kiss on the lips and then leaves your bedroom, leaves you standing there in your boxers, completely confused as to what's happened.

The front door closes and you walk over to the window, watch him walk down the street whilst messing up his hair in frustration. You should have expected this, know that there's something more to him. A mystery, you being the detective. But you're sure this mystery can only be solved by a confession and you hope that day will come.

* * *

Brendan returns about an hour later, all of that time you've spent in your room. You've had a shower, your body still damp and dripping and a towel is wrapped low around your hips but you've done nothing productive, haven't even gone downstairs to eat anything.

You glance around when there's a knock on the door and there Brendan stands, a duffle bag in hand.

'Well, Steven that is a warm welcome. You really shouldn't have.'

His eyes scan your partially naked, dripping body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as if he could eat you whole.

'Well it wasn't for your benefit. Trust me.'

He hums at your icy tone and walks towards you, wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you into him. He stares at you for a moment, is doing that thing when his gaze darts from one eye to the other as if he's trying to read you. He then lowers his head and presses his tongue to your shoulder, drags it along your skin collecting small beads of water as he goes.

It makes you melt, his tongue quite cool in comparison to your warm skin. You stroke a hand down his bicep until you reach the closed fist that's holding the duffle and you cup your hand around it, try to intertwine your fingers.

'What's in the bag?'

You ask, tilting your head so he can lick further up your neck.

'I went back to my place and picked up some stuff.'

He says against your skin as he drops the duffle to the floor and uses his free hand to untuck your towel.

'Trying to move in are we?'

You ask, all of your anger melting like an ice cube.

'If that's okay with you.'

He doesn't divert from licking your skin, keeps his lips pressed against your Adam's apple as he lets your towel pool around your ankles.

'You serious?'

'Well I ain't staying at home, and I'm not gunna sleep on a street corner, so I guess I'll just have to stay with you.'

Your eyes drift into the back of your head as he massages the globes of your arse with his large hands, his middle finger sliding up and down the crack, his lips still latched to your throat.

'How do you know if it's okay with me?'

'I've already talked to the guys. Despite how much Danny hates me, he reluctantly said yes. So that's a majority vote. I win.'

He gasps a laugh against the bottom of your chin and takes it between his teeth, chews on it lightly before trying to kiss you.

'What if I say no?'

'You won't.'

'What makes you so sure?'

You dodge his lips despite how tempting they are, your pent up anger still lurking in the pit of your stomach and it isn't something you can ignore. He comes to a halt with kissing your neck and pulls away to look at you in disbelief. He chuckles to himself and raises a hand, runs his fingers through your wet hair and then forces his lips upon yours without warning, his tongue sliding into your mouth, teeth chewing on your lip and hands frantically touching every inch of you, a finger slipping into your tight hole as he diverts his attention back onto your neck.

He falls to the floor and brings your naked form on top of him.

You ride him for an hour straight.

* * *

**6 days later**

You've gone into school everyday this week, have been determined to do because you're not going to sit around all day and mope in self pity. Keith has had to drive you though because you're still getting exhausted after only a few minutes of exercise but you've been good with your neck brace, have had people stare at you like you're a freak for days on end but Cheryl and Danielle have sorted them out for you. The teachers have allowed you to leave classes five minutes early so you don't get caught up in the stampede of students during change over, so you assume that Keith has explained to them the situation.

You're not afraid of what people will think, will genuinely talk to people about it if they ask you what's wrong but if they stare then you hold up the middle finger. You can't be fucked with people who speculate because you have enough to deal with.

Today is the day when you have your first session of chemotherapy and to be quite honest, you're scared as hell. It's also the day in which you're told how long and how often you'll be in hospital, what your treatment plan will be.

You had to leave school a few hours in because your appointment was at noon and Keith has driven you to the hospital. Brendan was determined to go with you, wasn't taking no for an answer. You dragged him into Keith's office and kissed him like he was the structure to your universe, told him that you'd be fine and that he could see you afterwards and despite how reluctant he was, he eventually agreed.

You're sat outside of Dr Jones' office, your knees bouncing up and down rhythmically, teeth chewing away at your fingernails, a habit that you adapt when you're nervous.

'Calm down.'

Keith whispers from next to you as he puts a hand on your knee to try and reassure you. You chuckle apprehensively, the physical contact not calming your erratic heart in the slightest.

In that instant, a man emerges from the office in front of you, his hair grey yet thick and styled with gel, eyes a deep chocolate brown, his face relatively perfect with little signs of ageing, and a height of roughly 6ft maybe taller.

'Steven Hay?'

He says, politely smiling as you stand. He offers out his hand and you both shake it, follow him into the office as he beckons you inside.

'Take a seat.'

You do as asked and sit down in the blue chair opposite him, Keith occupying the one next to you.

'I'm Doctor Jones, I'll be handling your case Steven. Pleasure to meet you. So how are you feeling at the moment?'

He asks as he scans the papers in front of him, a sticky note paper clipped to the top with all of your details printed in thick, black font.

'Umm... Not too bad.'

'No back pain? Not aching anywhere in particular?'

'No.'

You've got a lump in your throat, are concerned because his face changes for a split second as he gets to the bottom of the page. If you'd blinked, you would have missed it but it was such a subtle look, you can't fathom what it expressed.

'Good. That's good. Okay, so we have the results from your Lumbar puncture and we've found that the tumour is quite aggressive. We can try and slow the growth down with radio therapy but the damage has already been done, so we need to operate on that as soon as possible. I've booked you in for four sessions of radio therapy in the hope that it'll prevent it from growing any bigger or else the procedure will become even more difficult.'

You and Keith are both nodding but you haven't stopped fiddling with your hands, your palms moist with sweat and nails chewed so low that they're nearly bleeding.

'Your Leukaemia is also quite aggressive and we'll be starting your treatment today as planned. The method we're using is called IV infusion, which means that we insert a canular into your vein and pump in the drugs directly. We're going to have to do this every day and the side effects will occur quite quickly. You'll seriously have to think about whether attending school is a good idea. Eventually, it will do more harm than good.'

Your body shakes with disappointment and strangely anger. This fucking illness is preventing you from finishing your education, stopping you from leading the good life that you dreamt of having. You wanted to live in a nice house, have a well payed job in something you love doing, wanted to host parties and do all of the things that people do.

'The overall time span of how long the treatment will take, all depends on the progress you make. You'll be bedridden for at least 3 weeks after the operation on your back, you won't be allowed out in cold or wet whether, people will have to keep their distance if they have a cold or fever because your immune system will be weakened. There are a lot of precautions we have to take. Do you have any questions at all?'

Keith doesn't speak up on your behalf, wouldn't have to really because he's been through all of this already. He still hasn't gone into the infinite details with you though and you assume that it's a sensitive subject so you've never presented him with questions.

'What other side affects will there be?'

You ask, have to clear your throat before speaking with a small cough.

'There are many possible side affects but that all depends on the person. Hair loss is guarunteed, your skin will bruise easier if you knock it on anything, many leukemia patients have frequent and heavy nose bleeds, some of which may hospitalise you. You'll be tired quite a lot and feel as if you have a lack of energy.'

He says this with great confidence, looks at you with pity but he isn't exactly breaking it to you gently. You weren't prepared for such bluntness, but then again you should of expected this because he must deal with cancer patients every day.

'What about the operation? When will it be?'

Keith asks, is the only thing that he's really concerned about because he knows all of the rest.

'It'll be in 8 days time. Radio therapy will commence today as well as chemotherapy. It may sound very soon, but the longer we leave the tumour, the more vicious it will get. If we hadn't found out in the time that we did, I'd say you would have been paralysed within a couple of months.'

Your eyes widen in shock. A couple of months more and you would've been a vegetable. You feel slightly disgusted and stupid because you were being so arrogant and dismissive of everyone when they pled you to go to the doctors, said that you were fine when in fact, you were far from fine.

'Any more questions?'

A silence descends for a moment. You shake your head and Dr Jones gets to his feet, begins to straighten out the papers on his desk.

'Good. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you down to Sophie. She's our radiographer.'

You follow him out of his office and cross to the other side of the hospital. It's relatively quiet at this time, no doctors sprint past you and very little noise comes from the wards that you pass. You come to a halt outside of a room where a lady stands. She's the same height as you with flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes, her lashes long and painted with mascara, lips a deep red.

'Sophie, this is Steven-'

'Um, it's Ste. It's what everyone calls me.'

You can't help but interrupt and correct him. Only one person calls you Steven. When anyone else attempts to, you just find it annoying.

'My apologies. Well, I'll leave you to it and I'll see you tomorrow alright?'

You nod politely and smile and the older gent departs, shaking Keith's hand and delicately touching you on the shoulder. He wonders off back down the hall, his shoes knocking against the ground causing the sound to echo.

Sophie leads you inside the room where a large machine is attached to the ceiling. There's a square board on the opposite side of the room and she leads you over to it, asks you to take your top off, and stand with your back facing her with your arms in the air.

Keith was left outside, was told that the radio waves could potentially harm him so he hugged you before you went in and took a seat.

The machine makes a lot of sounds, like a transformer. You can hear it moving above you and a light shines brightly, so bright it nearly blinds you despite the fact you aren't facing it. You don't feel anything and you don't particularly feel any different when Sophie says you're finished and you leave the room, again with a smile as she says good bye.

* * *

**Brendan's P.O.V**

It's been seven days since Steven started his chemotherapy, every day of which you've not been allowed to go with him to the hospital. Both Keith and Steven have denied you that right and you've been trapped in school all day with nothing else on your mind. Cheryl has been asking you how he is because he stopped going to school three days after he started treatment, found it too tiring. Of course, you've refused to go back home despite Cheryl trying to persuade you and you nearly laughed in her face when she told you that your dad was missing having you around. She said that he was sorry for what he said and did, looked at you with her large brown eyes and tried to pull her best puppy face but still you refused to change your mind.

You two aren't on bad terms by any means. She's come to see Steven and brought more of your clothes over for you, has finally faced the fact that you aren't coming home.

When the bell goes to signal the end of the day, and the end to another week, you meet Cheryl, Paddy and Danielle by the school gates, have taken to walking back with them more frequently now. Naturally, Cheryl and Danielle stray behind as they talk about random, temperamental subjects where as Paddy stays right by your side, hasn't spoke to you as much recently.

You assume that he's found out about you and Steven, you're not completely sure how but you've got a good idea.

'When were you gunna tell me?'

He asks, and his question only confirm your thoughts. He knows and you have no idea what to say because you fear that you might suddenly lose the person you consider as your only real friend. He's blasted homophobic things around, even targeted Steven with it so his thoughts on people like you were presented clearly.

'Tell you about what?'

You ask as you continue to wonder down the street, hands in your pockets, acting entirely normal but on the inside your stomach is in knots.

'About you and Ste being... together. Don't try and bull shit me Bren because I've known for ages.'

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair, have no where to hide now. If Paddy knows, then surely everyone in the school knows. Not many people would have the balls to take the piss out of you though because you've upheld a reputation, the majority of students knowing full well that you'd give them a slap if they even attempted to humiliate you.

'I dunno Paddy okay? I didn't mean for it to happen. One thing lead to another and now we're here. I'm living with him and now he's _so_ sick. I don't plan on leaving him anytime soon so if you've got a problem then you know where the fucking door is.'

You spit, have found that people pinpointing you on your relationship with Steven pisses you off. You've been made to feel disgusting by your dad for long enough so you've decided that everyone else can go and fuck themselves, especially Seamus.

'Didn't say I had a problem with it. Just wish you had a bigger pair of balls and told me.'

'What makes you so interested anyway? What are you? My stalker?'

He doesn't say anything more, keeps quiet the rest of the journey home and doesn't say goodbye when you stop off back at Steven's house. He simply carries on down the street alone as you say goodbye to Danielle and Cheryl.

'Tell him we said Hi.'

Danielle says with a small smile, giving you a kiss on the cheek and then linking arms with Cheryl to stroll off down the street.

You go inside, dump your bag by the door and take a seat on the floor in the living room where Kyle, Jamie and Liam are all sat watching some day time crap on T.V.

'How is he?'

You ask, don't need to define the subject because it's relatively clear.

'He's sleeping.'

Kyle says, moving his legs away and making room for you on the sofa.

'Again?'

Steven is always sleeping now, feels constantly drained and will only come out of bed if he needs the toilet, showers or to tell Jamie that he's had another night sweat. The boys and yourself take food up to him, have to take him ice cream and tea quite a lot because he'll be boiling hot one minute then freezing cold the next.

You mostly spend time cooped up in his room with him, will let him crawl on top of you and sleep for hours on end whilst you hold him, feel him breathe against you. He's lost weight, weight that he can't afford to lose. His hips jutt out more than they already do and you can run a single finger over every rib. Strangely enough however, his sex drive hasn't subsided. He'll wake up and be gagging for you to fuck him but you're always scepticle to do so because you feel like you'll break him.

'No, he's _still_ sleeping. He hasn't eaten anything. Don't know if he's even woken up today. Keith rang the hospital and asked them to give him his treatment here, so they did. But apparently if he carries on the way he is, then he'll have to be put in hospital.'

The household has been quiet for days, no sound of laughter, because there doesn't seem to be anything to laugh about. Danny has been busy with Sarah and the baby so that's keeping him relatively happy, that is until he comes home. He's always out now, finds it to be his only source of happiness at the moment and he's practically living off it, yet Sarah has taken care of Steven on multiple occasions. She's put cold flannels over his head, given him water bottles if he's cold, cleaned his sheets, bought him food and done everything despite being pregnant.

'I'm gunna go see him.'

You say, slapping Kyle on the knees which earns you a playful slap in return.

When you go into his room, he's still asleep, is just a small lump under a large duvet. You crawl up next to him gently but your weight lets you down as the mattress dips and he stirs.

'Hey.'

You say as he rolls over, his face abnormally pale, cheek bones visible under his taught skin.

'Hiya.'

He smiles and it's still as beautiful as ever, his teeth still gleaming and lips pink and plush. His eyes are heavy and black bagged underneath, the whites of his eyes slightly blood shot. The sight still surprises you, how much he's deteriorated but it doesn't put you off what so ever.

'You gotten out of bed today lazy bones?'

You ask humorously, stroking a thumb down his bony cheek.

'Not today. Haven't had the energy.'

He raises his arms to try and stretch his muscles and the sleeve of his top roll down over his elbows. Your eyes widen slightly at how skinny he is, how little there is to him now. He's lost his golden tone, the honey like skin and it's been replaced with a white as pale as milk.

'You need the toilet or anything? I'll carry you if you want?'

He stares at you in awe, like you're his hero and for once in your life you feel like Superman, the hero you always wanted to be. But you're not saving him, if anything _you _are the damsel in distress. He's the fighter, the one fighting something so vicious that it has the ability to kill him. The poison that's running through his veins is like the kryptonite, destroying him from the inside out and he's losing his powers.

'Come on then Mr Muscles.'

He grins, holding out his arms with the little energy he has. You help him to sit forward, hook one arm around his back and the other under his knees and he's as light as a feather, seems to be losing more weight by the day.

You carry him to the toilet, are shoved weakly out of the door by the boy because he says that he has the ability to piss by himself and it draws a chuckle from you, the first in what feels like forever.

You carry him back to his room, despite it being such a short distance but even a few steps has the ability to make his knees wobble. You place him delicately on the bed and lie down next to him, kicking your shoes off and loosening your tie.

'Here. I'll do that.'

Steven says, placing his bony hand over yours and pulling the tie out from under your collar, allowing it to drop to the floor.

'I do know how to undress myself.'

You say, placing a hand gently on his waist.

'Yeah but I do it so much better.'

How he has the energy to let you have sex with him is beyond you. His flirtatious behaviour hasn't ceased in the slightest. He's made you fuck him at least twice a day, has used the excuse that he'll be bedridden for 3 weeks after his operation, the date of which is tomorrow and you're probably even more nervous than he is.

Your thoughts are interrupted when he kisses you, deep and longing and translating his messages of adoration and care that he hasn't been able to say while you've been at school. You lift his weightless body on top of you and he pulls away briefly, nudges a gap open between your legs with his knee and settles in between.

'Your lips taste like chemicals.'

You say, darting out your tongue and licking along your bottom lip.

'I'm sorry.'

He says, shying away from you, dropping his gaze so he doesn't have to suffer the scrutiny.

'It's okay. I kinda like it.'

You reassure, tilting up his head with the aid of your index finger. You hated the taste at first, thought it was like having perfume sprayed in your mouth but you've gotten used to it now, don't particularly care anymore because it still feels the same, his lips soft and wet and warm.

You kiss him again, have to shift slightly because the bones of his hips dig into your groin. It still feels nice having him on top of you though, his body still warm and skin still smooth to touch.

You run a hand up his back and cup his head in your hands, work your fingers into his hair and attempt to pull his head back, know that he still likes it rough despite how sensitive he is. You're more gentle with him now of course, won't bite into him or grab his thighs hard because his skin bruises more easily.

You stop suddenly, your lips drifting out of sync to his and he looks down at you in confusion with his brows kniited and lowered.

'Why'd you stop?'

He asks, pressing his lips down on your neck but you simply look past him and up to your hand that holds a clump of his hair, trapped between your fingers. You bring your arm down and show him, a lump in your throat because you know that this was the part that he was going to hate the most.

He picks out the thin strands from your grip, his hands shaking and eyes swelling with tears. He touches the back of his head and then shoots out of bed at the speed of light, runs to the mirror by his window and stares at himself.

'No No No No No No.'

You walk over and stand behind him, watch him run his fingers through his hair and feel like you've been shot in the chest when you see more of it come out. He starts to cry, looks at your reflection and breaks down completely, his cheeks changing colour and glowing a deep pink.

'Hey, it's okay. It's okay.'

You bring him into a hug and let him cry into your chest, would stroke the back of his head but you don't think that would be of much help at the moment. He's shaking, clinging onto you by your shirt and your arms tighten around him, can almost fit around him twice with how much weight he's lost.

'We knew this was gunna happen Steven.'

You whisper, turn your head to kiss the side of his face.

'I didn't want it to. I can see it in your face... The way you look at me now compared to a couple of months ago... You don't want me anymore.'

'Shut up.'

'It's true. You shouldn't have to put up with this, with a guy that's...ugly.'

He's making you angry, unintentionally so but he doesn't understand how ludicrous he sounds because he could never be ugly in your eyes, even if he wore a paper bag over his head for eternity. You push him away before you lose it. Instead, you strip off your shirt and turn around, let him set his sights on your scarred back.

'See this? _This_ is ugly. I got it because I took my dads shit for over 10 years without fighting back. This will _never_ go. But you... You're fighting harder than I _ever_ did and you're fighting a harder battle. You will get better and your hair will grow back. These scars will make me ugly for the rest of my life.'

You throw your shirt to the floor violently, pick him up by the thighs and take him back to the bed where you have slow sex with him, where you tell him in each sentence that he's fucking beautiful. You'll tell him everyday until he believes you.

* * *

Keith comes to get Steven at 8:00am, helps him get changed while you have a shower. This is the first time you're getting to go to the hospital with Steven. They tried to talk you out of it but you weren't taking no for an answer.

When you're both ready, you go downstairs where you're greeted by all of the lads, even Danny despite his regular stays at Sarah's house.

'Good luck today. I've got to work but I'll see you afterwards okay?'

Danny says, bringing Steven into a long hug. He supports most of his weight in his large arms, sees that the boy is struggling to stand up.

'You better turn up.'

'I will. I promise.'

They exchange a smile and Steven turns his attention onto Liam, throws his arms around the blonde where as Danny begins to focus on you. He still makes you nervous, puts you on edge with his unpredictable demeanour.

'Look after him for me'.

He says, looks like he really doesn't want to talk to you but he says it anyway and shakes your hand unexpectedly. You nod and smile politely, awkwardly pull your hand away and take Steven around the waist to lead him out to Keith's car.

He holds your hand the entire journey, throws his hood over his head because more of his hair came out during the night and he still doesn't want you to see him like that, is still embarrassed about it.

You get to the hospital within a matter of minutes and you're showed to the room that Seven will be occupying for the three weeks in which he recovers. He doesn't seem too nervous, despite how quiet he's being so you don't try to engage in conversation in case you worry him.

'Ste, nice to see you again.'

A man who you haven't seen before comes around the corner with a clip board in hand and a polite smile on his face. You assume it's Dr Jones, the consultant that will be handling Steven's case.

'How are you feeling?'

He asks as he leans against the railing of the bed.

'Scared.'

Your grip instantaneously tightens on his hand when he says that, your stomach twisting into a knot.

'You'll be going down in a minute so just stay calm alright? I assume you're Brendan?'

The older gent asks, reaching out a hand to shake yours and you take it willingly in your shaky hand. You still hate hospitals, even if your reason for being in one is disconcerted to you.

'Yeah. How do you know my name?'

'Ste doesn't shut up about you when he comes in to have his chemo.'

You turn to look at the boy, your chest swelling when you see that he's blushing and flicking his gaze down to his hands where he's picking at his cuticle. In that moment, you suddenly feel like it's only Steven and yourself, all of the beeping in the background fading away and it's just you and him in a white walled room. You lean up to kiss him, can feel eyes on you but you don't care, are completely oblivious to any attention you may be attracting.

'Been talking about me eh?'

You ask with a smile, his thin fingers stroking along your jawline.

'In a good way.'

'I should think so.'

He kisses you again, his lips tasting of mint today rather than chemicals, only because he hasn't had his usual dose of chemo.

About half an hour later, Steven is taken down to surgery. He refused to let go of your hand so you walked along with him and crooned words of comfort into his ear and kissed the side of his face. When you get into the operating theatre a couple of nurses crowd around him, lift his shirt and put circular stickers onto his chest which are attached to monitors.

'You okay?'

You ask, leaning over the railing of the bed and cupping his face in your free hand, your thumb tracing his cheek bone.

'Don't let go until I drift off okay?'

'I won't. I promise.'

You squeeze on his hand to reassure him and he shoots you a small smile of thanks, is too busy swallowing down the lump in his throat to say it. One of the nurses puts an oxygen mask over his face and tells him to breathe normally which he does but he's on edge, is conscious of everyone moving around him.

'Brendan.'

'Yeah?'

'Remember, a few weeks ago when I was gunna tell you something and I didn't?'

How could you forget? You probably remember it for the wrong reasons, mainly recall how you two had an argument and when you returned, you resolved it with a hell of a shag. But you do remember how he froze against you and refused to tell you what was bothering him, something that really got under your skin.

'Yeah. I remember.'

'W-what I was gunna say is that...'

'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.'

You can see that his eyes are filling with tears and you're not sure if it's because he's scared of what's about to happen, or if he's worried that he might upset you. You've come to terms with the fact that he doesn't have to tell you everything, despite how much it agitates you, otherwise you'd be a hypocrite because you haven't told him about the thing that's made you the man you are today, haven't given him the key that opens the dungeon to the dark part of your soul.

'No... I want too. I was gunna say that...'

He's stuttering, tears rolling down his cheeks and you swipe them away with your thumb, hate seeing him upset like this. He yanks the mask off of his face and pulls you down to kiss him, long and lingering and it's a kiss that could make and break your universe, so powerful and hypnotic that the world could end and you'd know nothing about it.

'I love you.'

* * *

You've been outside the operating room for over six hours, Steven's words ghosting in your head over and over again like a broken record. He loves you. He's in _love_... With _you, _and you couldn't even say it back because you nearly choked on your own oxygen, physically couldn't say it because your body wouldn't let you. Before you could even respond, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and was unconscious, his grip on your hand slackening and he was wheeled away from you.

You were beckoned outside by the nurses and you sat down on the floor, felt flushed and hot, thought you might have passed out on the spot.

You don't know what to do, how to react to Steven when he wakes up because you can't tell him _that, _still aren't sure if what you feel for him _is_ love. You take a deep breath and run your fingers through your hair, haven't said a lot to Keith who you barely noticed was sat opposite you on a chair.

'You want a coffee?'

He asks, hasn't stopped fidgeting, something he does when he's nervous.

'Three sugars.'

He looks alarmed for a moment and then wonders off down the corridor towards the canteen, returns about a minute later with your steaming brew and some food.

You don't eat it, in fact, you fall alseep against the wall, have done nothing but worry about the boy who's being cut open and stabbed. It's exhausted you, yet you're awoken by Keith a little later on, far too soon for your liking because you want to sleep a little longer.

'Brendan wake up. Wake up. He's on his way out.'

Your eyes shoot open and you're slightly disorientated for a minute, the walls and Keith's face being blurry. He helps you to your feet but your mind is still asleep and you stumble, strangely begin to think that you see Steven walking out of the operating room with all of his hair back, his skin once again golden, think that he's filled out again and beautifully toned. But when the door opens, a bed is wheeled out and there the boy is, out cold with an oxygen mask over his face. He's even more pale than when he walked in, almost looks like a dead corpse, limp and lifeless.

You try to walk beside him but Keith catches you around the chest.

'Let them take him back first. We'll go with him in a second.'

You take a deep breath to try and stop yourself from ripping out of his grip, want nothing more than to be next to the boy who loves you and tell him that you're there next to him.

The surgeon walks out next, drying his hands after thoroughly washing them. He must be middle aged, looks like he knows what he's doing. He's well composed with a calm demeanour, something you still can't comprehend with people who work in this profession.

'How did it go? Will he be okay?'

Keith asks and the man doesn't look so positive, his face expressionless. You can see it, see it in his eyes that something has gone wrong and your heart flies through the roof, your stomach churning and twisting into knots.

'We got most of the tumour. More radiotherapy is needed to ensure that all of the mutated cells are destroyed. But there were complications like we suspected, something we thankfully managed to work around but halfway through the procedure he started having a seizure. Regrettably, some damaged was sustained upon the spinal cord as we tried to stabilise him.'

Damage? What does he mean damage?

Your mind drifts off to when you were here only mere months ago when the nurse performed a Lumbar puncture on the boy. You remember what she said, about the tumour and the risks, what would happen if he didn't have it removed.

'No... No he's not... Don't tell me he's...'

You're panicking, one word running through your head, practically screaming at you and mocking you as if the devil himself intended it to be this way. Your stomach drops and your lungs constrict and you feel like you're going to be sick, can feel bile rising to the back of your throat.

'The damage that was sustained wasn't minor. Many synapses that lead to the brain were damaged. I'm afraid he's paralysed.'

**I'm sorry that it took me a little while to get this chapter out. I've had some personal issues to deal with lately. I hope you liked it anyway! Do leave me a little note or PM me your thoughts. I love hearing the feedback. I want to say a special thank you to those who have reviewed and continue to do so, and to those who have favourited and followed. Your loyalty is incredible.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Brendan's P.O.V**

You run down the corridor as fast as your legs will carry you, heard the surgeon say something about intensive care so that's where you're heading. Except, this hospital is so fucking big, you have no idea where you are going. You've lost track of where the nurses took Steven, the route, so now you're simply running up every hallway, getting more frustrated because it all looks the fucking same.

Eventually you start to think logically, fathom and gather your thoughts and decide to follow the signs, are still getting frustrated because of the infinite amount of coloured lines taped to the floor, each leading to a separate destination in the hospital. You eventually find where you need to be, are jogging down the corridor and peeping into each room to see if Steven is in there.

'Brendan.'

You shoot around and there Keith stands, obviously found his way here quicker than you did.

'I need to find him.'

You start off again, are still looking in each room and cubicle, your skin itching because you still aren't in the place where you need to be, aren't in the presence of the person that needs you the most.

'You can't. They're doing tests on him. Brendan stop.'

The older man pulls on your wrist to try and stop you in your tracks but you shrug him off, are too heavily focused on finding the boy.

'Get off. He needs me.'

Your walking pace increases, your skin itching even more and you're scratching into yourself so hard that blood is rising to the surface. You're not sure if it's a clue to say that you're getting closer, or whether you're getting further away.

'Brendan.'

'No! I need to see him! That doctor is lying okay? Steven's fine. I know he is.'

You're in denial. You know you are but you can't bring yourself to face it, the fact that Steven is _paralysed. _But maybe you're over reacting. He could just be a bit numb in his legs for a couple of weeks and eventually the damage will heal. You've heard it be done, people being told that they won't ever be able to walk again but they do so anyway.

'Come here.'

You begin to slow when you get to the end of the hall, tears in your eyes and your flesh feeling numb because you've scratched away at it so much. You turn and Keith is there, his palm out to you and you've never seen him in this sort of light before. He looks exactly the same but he's vulnerable, his eyes wide, lip minutely quivering, hands shaking and it makes you break down. Your shoulders slacken and you practically run into his arms, need _someone_ to hold you.

You never realised what it felt like to be held when you were upset, never had your dad cradle you when you had grazed your knee in the playground at school, never had him hug you when you'd had a nightmare. Instead you would sit there in bed, shaking like a leaf until the sun began to rise.

But Steven showed you something that no one else had ever presented. He took you into his arms when you were upset or angry, would curl himself around you and for the first time in your life, you felt cherished. That's what you feel like now. Keith is hugging you in a way that a father should.

'They're doing tests on him to see how extensive the paralysis is. We'll see him in a bit okay? I promise.'

You nod against him and you let him lead you to the canteen where you order coffee and food. You don't eat, the worry making you lose your appetite but you down the coffee, need to feel the sugar running through your veins because you feel drained, want to curl up on the floor and cry yourself to sleep.

An hour passes before a nurse comes to find you, the same one who performed the Lumbar puncture on the boy a month ago. She comes into the canteen and approaches the table that you and Keith are sat at. She doesn't say anything, simply tilts her head signalling for you to follow and you do so eagerly, push and scrape your chair back along the floor and keep hot on her heels as she wonders down the corridor.

You stop outside of a room and she turns to you, her face illegible yet she's fiddling with her hands nervously and at that point, you don't even need to know the details because it's written all over her face. But you listen anyway, are crossing everything in the hope that you'll hear that it isn't as bad as they first thought.

'We've tested him and his paralysis is extensive. He can't move any limbs and he's lost the ability to talk as well. He can only do the simplest of things, blink, grunt and cough at the most. It's known as full body paralysis. His chances of recovering from something like this are very slim, practically impossible but there are treatments available that use Quantum Neurology. Patients have been known to make a full recovery with it but it costs a lot of money.'

'How much?'

'Thousands of pounds. Tens of thousands.'

You can't listen to this anymore, can't listen to the probabilities and possibilities, how little chance he has of recovering. You storm past her and throw open the door, can here Keith protesting behind you but you ignore him. Steven lies there, staring at the ceiling and you slowly circle until you're right next to him. He look's pale, the rims of his eyes black and heavy as if he hasn't slept for months.

'Steven.'

You whisper and his breathing increases when he hears you say his name. He tries to say something but it's simply a mixing of unfathomable noise although you can tell that he's beginning to panic, is blinking erratically, trying to look at you but you're just out of sight.

'Hey. Hey it's okay. Calm down.'

You cup his face in your hand and tilt his head towards you so he can look at you and you see that he's crying, tears trickling down his bony, pale cheeks.

'Don't cry. Please don't cry.'

You try not to choke on your own emotion as you stroke the tears away with your thumb and lean over to kiss him on the mouth. You feel him attempt to kiss you back but his lips remain placid although he still treasures it because there's a delay when he opens his eyes. You think you can see him smile but it's only your imagination, a trait that occurs every time you kiss him.

'I know you're scared but... don't listen to what they said okay? They don't know you like _I_ do. I know that you're strong and that you'll get better. You'll be able to walk again in no time, it just... might take a little while. But make sure you know that I ain't going anywhere because I-I...'

You're screaming at yourself to say it, to mouth those three little words but you can't and you practically kick yourself for even attempting. Steven's eyes become even more sad when you sigh and shake your head. You wish that he could move so he could punch you in the face for letting him down already.

'I really care about you Steven. I'm gunna be here every day to look after you whether it be weeks, months, years. _Every day_, understand?'

You lean down to kiss him on the mouth again, dart out your tongue to lick his lip and you taste chemicals automatically. You hum at the tingling sensation that's left behind because it's so familiar to you now. You notice that more of Steven's hair has come out during the operation and there are merely a few tufts left, the rest of his head smooth and pale like his skin. You miss his mousy, blond hair already mainly because you have many memories associated with it. You'd yank on it when you fucked him, kissed it during after math, would wake up because of it when it tickled your nose due to Steven falling asleep on top of you.

For the next couple of hours you simply sit in the room with Steven, angle his head so you can look at him and you talk to him, make jokes like you usually would. Just because he doesn't have the ability to talk anymore, doesn't mean you should treat him like an invalid. He's the same person, just a little quieter. He still grunts the odd laugh, his eyes lighting up when you humour him. Keith came in a little while earlier and spoke to Steven, tried to reassure him like you did. Now he's asleep in the visitors chair on the opposite side of the room.

You manage to come up with a little system with the boy, a way to try and communicate to a certain extend. You regularly ask him questions, see if he needs anything, if he's in pain, uncomfortable, tired. One blink equals yes, two blinks equals No. It comes in handy a little later on when you ask him if he needs anything and eventually you find out that the morphine has worn off so you get a nurse in to give him more. She changes his position so he's leaning on his side, facing you properly now.

You hold his hand and talk to him for a few more hours about random shit, pointless shit, tell him that you're about to become really busy in terms of school work because your exams are only months away now and you don't intend to mess them up. You ask him if it's okay for you to revise when you visit and he blinks once - Yes. Then he grunts, a monotone sound because he can't move his tongue and you question him about it. After ten minutes of guessing, you find out that he wants to help you with your revision. It makes you chuckle, makes you feel like you're in a constant yes and no game, which you are technically.

Keith tries to convince you to go home a little later on, back to Steven's place but you refuse, want to stay with him for the night. You understand his reasons for leaving. He has a school to run, meetings, needs to organise induction days for students who are thinking of moving up to 6th form. He says he'll be back tomorrow evening when he's sorted everything out and he departs, pulling you into a hug before he goes and whispering _I'm proud of you _into your ear.

Steven is injected with more morphine after Keith leaves, closes his eyes in discomfort as he feels it being pulsed into his bloodstream through the cannula and you squeeze lightly on his hand to try and comfort him through it.

A little while later, some time early in the morning, you wake up from falling asleep. You stayed sat in your chair, pulled it right up to the side of the bed so you could rest your head on the side of the mattress and drifted off. You're not sure how or why you've woken up but you hear Steven sniffing and there's something wet on your hand. When you open your eyes, you see there's a red liquid on your fingers and you rub it between your index finger and thumb, are confused as to what it is and you're still disorientated, your eyes aching and head thumping. It's only when you lift your head to look at the boy that you realise it's blood.

He's having a nose bleed and it makes you go into panic because it's all down his front and stained the sheets. He's crying, tears mixing with his blood as they fall down his cheeks, diluting it and you stand up so quick that the chair launches back and smacks the wall, leaves a large dent in it.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...'

You pinch the bridge of his nose and slam on the emergency bell, are stroking his head to try and calm him down, completely unable to talk right now because you're choking on the lump in your throat at the amount of blood he's lost. Nurses come storming in, one of them taking hold of you and pulling you out of the room.

'Woah woah woah love. What are you doing? I ain't going anywhere!'

'You have to wait outside. Please let us do our job.'

You try to shrug her off but she pulls on you even harder and you tighten your grip on the bed railing, are desperate not to leave his side. Then he begins to vomit blood and bile and you reluctantly let her drag you out of the room, are using it as an excuse so you don't have to watch it happen. The door is slammed in your face and you slide your back down the wall until you're sat on the floor, bring your knees up to your chin and you choke out a sob, cry into your hands as you hear the nurses running in and out of the room to get who and what they need.

This is all your fault. If you hadn't fallen asleep then you would have seen it happen, been able to do something quicker. His bloody face keeps flashing in your head and it makes your stomach churn, makes you feel like you need to be sick but you haven't eaten in hours so there's nothing to bring up.

You don't know how long you've been sat on the floor but the next thing you hear, is someone calling your name.

'Brendan! What happened?'

You look up and see Jamie, Kyle, Liam and Danny all running towards you, their outfits uncoordinated, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot.

'I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do.'

Liam drops to his knees in front of you, places his hands on your shoulders and gives you a look that's asking you to elaborate.

'It's my fault. I fell asleep and he had a nose bleed, a really bad one. I just panicked.'

Liam's face is a picture of realisation and knowledge. He knows that things like this can happen, understands what happened and why. He pulls you into a hug and you cling onto him, cry into his shoulder because you could have done more. You should have stayed awake.

'This isn't your fault.'

He helps you to your feet and keeps an arm around your shoulder for about half an hour until one of the nurses comes out of the room. Danny is pacing up and down the corridor, is still in his work uniform so you assume that he's just finished his shift. Kyle sits on one of the chairs and taps his foot against the marble floor and it's making you more nervous, his anticipation rubbing off on you. A nurse emerges a little while later, one you haven't seen or met before.

'We've stopped the bleeding but he's lost a lot of blood. We've had to give him a transfusion, something he'll need regularly from now on as he receives more chemo. He's alright now if you want go in, although he is exhausted so be gentle.'

You don't hesitate, push past her and swing open the door to find the other nurses moving the boy into a more comfortable position. He has a packet of blood attached to his cannula, looks even more pallid than before which you thought was impossible. The others follow you in, Kyle the most nervous because, although he may have a tough exterior, he's the most sensitive one out of all of you.

'Hey buddy. Sorry I didn't come in any earlier but I only just finished my shift. Then I got the call from the doctor and... Here I am.'

Danny says, remembers his promise that he made to see Steven after his operation. He takes hold of his hand and sits down in the chair that Keith occupied earlier, begins to talk to the boy soothingly and you all watch as he drifts off to sleep. He must be exhausted, a feeling that you know too well, your own eyes heavy, head spinning in and out of consciousness.

They don't stay for long because they all have work in the morning, Danny having to meet Sarah for her scan later on in the afternoon, Kyle needing to be at a meeting. Liam has a shift here in the hospital and has promised to regularly check on the both of you. Jamie is the one who stays behind, offers to keep you company through out the night which you appreciate because Steven is fast asleep and rightfully so. You need some sort of distraction because you're too scared to fall asleep in case anything happens.

* * *

You wake up at about 7am, didn't even realise you'd fallen asleep and you snap your head around to find Steven still peacefully sleeping next to you, eyelids flickering and chest rising and falling gently in a rhythmic pattern. He's in the same position, has slightly more colour to him than he did last night and it makes you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that little happened while you were unconscious.

Jamie isn't in the room when you look around, although there are papers scattered at the end of the bed, each laid out specifically. You assume they're drawings for his Art portfolio, but when you shift a little closer and take one into your hands, curiosity getting the better of you, you see that it's a drawing of _yourself._

You're sleeping in this picture, lips parted, hair mussed and your fingers are bunched up in a fist with the material of the blanket trapped in your grip. The detail is exquisite, each line and strand of hair drawn perfectly. You stand up, stretch your legs and allow them to click into place before circling to the end of the bed and feasting your eyes on the others.

Steven is in some of them and you flick your eyes between the drawing and the boy himself and it's like someone has taken a picture. In this particular one that you hold in your hand, your fingers are still interlocked with the Mancunian's, your lips pressed to his knuckles and it makes you smile, that your affection and feelings for him are still on show even when you sleep.

'You're fascinating to draw.'

Jamie's voice comes from behind you and it makes you jump out of your skin. You hadn't heard him come back in, your attention too heavily focused on studying the portraits.

'Am I?'

You ask, looking at yourself in the mirror, analysing for anything interesting about your appearance.

'Yeah. Your hands are beautiful to draw. You have big palms and long fingers, see? Your jaw is structured, the expression on your face shows exactly how your feeling. Your ears are pretty normal as well, which is always nice.'

When he uses his index finger to point these small details out, you realise what he means. You look slightly stressed, frown lines visible on your forehead. Your hands do look nice, although you're convinced that he's intentionally drawn them that way.

'My ears?'

You've never really payed attention to someone's ears so you don't know the deviations between them.

'Yeah. Look at Ste here. He has quite big ears and they stick out a bit. I always thought it was kinda cute. Especially in primary school when they looked too big for his head. But yours are in proportion, they're not a funny shape.'

You giggle when you look at the boy and notice how his ears _do_ stick out. You suppose that you realise it more now because he has no hair and the shape and size is less concealed.

'I've drawn Ste quite a lot. He's amazing to draw.'

The older man begins to rummage in his bag, starts pulling out rubbers, graphite, chalk, charcoal, acrylic paints. It amazes you how much he has actually got in there. He eventually pulls out a folder that's about to burst with how much is stuffed in it and he hands it over to you.

'Take a look.'

You sit back down in your chair, rest the folder on the side of the bed and begin to flick through it, all the while Jamie is analysing them with you. They may seem like pointless little sketches, but to him, they express a certain meaning.

'Ste has the best profile. His cheek bones are incredible and he's got really long eyelashes. His lips are full, and his nose upturns a little at the end. His face is quite perfect. In a non-homosexual way. More from an academic perspective.'

You agree with him, but in more than just an academic way. There are also drawings from random days out, of Liam playing beach ball and Jamie, again, explains how Liam is best to draw for his figure, the arch of his back, muscular shoulders, curve of his neck and the toned abs. It makes you slightly hot under the collar now that you know what Liam looks like shirtless, but then you turn to a drawing of Steven, also half naked and you nearly end up sprouting a hard on.

He looks obscenely perfect, skinny but toned, thicker in build than he is now and you had almost forgotten what he looked like before he deteriorated. The memories come flooding back. His hair, thick and a mousy brown colour. His stomach, long and lean with a barely visible treasure trail. His chest, not broad as such but he had curves, all of it beautifully connected. If you had been shown this drawing now and you didn't know Steven in the way that you do, then you'd say that such perfection was impossible.

'He's beautiful.'

You whisper, ghosting your fingers over the penciled outline.

'He's the best to draw for his face. Even now. Liam has a good body and he's quite vercitile. Danny is amazing to draw if you want action shots or evil expressions. Kyle is better for domesticity. He's better to to draw if he knows you're not there.'

All of this fascinates you, the talent, the detail, the extended meanings that people without an analytical eye would never understand. You then come across a drawing of yourself and Steven, tucked inside on a small, white sticky note. You remember this moment. It was from when Liam put that film on, 21 Jump Street or something, and you started to get jealous at how Steven was nearly drooling over the main character.

You're sat on the floor, your head tipped back and Steven is kissing you from above, his hand tucked inside your shirt. It draws a blush into your cheeks, but you're also surprised that you never even realised that Jamie was drawing you.

'I like affectionate moments.'

'Can I keep this?'

You ask, have no idea what has caused you to present this question but you simply have a strange yearn to need it.

'Sure.'

You slip it out from underneath the paper clip, place it on the bedside table and continue to look at more drawings, only to stumble across a more explicit picture of you and Steven. It makes your eyes widen in shock, has you nearly choking on your Oxygen.

'Oh... Um... I couldn't sleep and I needed some inspiration so I kinda just... snuck into Ste's room while you were both sleeping.'

Both of you are naked from head to toe, Steven's entire body draped over the top of yours and his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your arms circling him. One hand rests on his lower back, the other on his arse all the while Steven's arms are drawn into himself, one hand palm open over your heart.

In the corner of the page there's a close up sketch of your hands on Steven's back and arse and it makes you blush even more, causes you to fidget slightly in embarrassment.

'That was kinda when I noticed how nice your hands were. Don't feel awkward. I've drawn naked guys before. And naked women. I prefer drawing the women for obvious reasons but the only girl we really have is Sarah and I don't think Danny would be too happy if I asked her to get naked for me, even if it were purely for my education.'

The main thing you're thankful for is that your dick isn't on show. You get the feeling that that would have been ten times worse.

'Danny doesn't hate you, you know?'

Jamie says out of the blue, dragging his chair over to sit next to you.

'He doesn't?'

You find that hard to believe, especially since he does everything in his power to avoid talking to you.

'Well, he did at first. All of us did but... What you need to understand about Danny, is that he had a tough childhood. We both did but I guess he had it worse than me.'

The older man's face drains slightly, the colour fading from his cheeks.

'We ran away when we were fifteen. Lived on the streets for months until we got put into foster care on our sixteenth birthday.'

'Why did you run away?'

You'd thought of doing that on numerous occasions, carried it out once but you were found within a couple of hours. You assumed that God wanted you to stay, so you did and you vowed to protect Cheryl with your life until you were both old enough to leave.

'Our dad was a nasty fucker. He beat up our mum while she was pregnant with us. One night, when we were five, Danny heard our parents shouting at each other and he got so scared that he wet the bed. When our dad found out, he went mental, started smacking Danny as well. Not _me_._ Just_ Danny. Then Ella came along when we were eight and she got killed three years later in a hit and run. Dad blamed Danny for it and punched him so hard that he knocked him out. Mum started screaming and dad hit her a little bit too hard. Gave her a brain haemorrhage and she died. I tried to pick a fight with him a few weeks later, finally plucked up the courage because for eleven years straight, I would just sit and watch Danny get beaten to a pulp. He beat us both afterwards, until Danny came home one day from school, packed our things and we stuck together. Ran away from there for good.'

You begin to wonder how much better your life could have potentially been if you'd hidden yourself away better when you ran off. You wouldn't be as screwed up as you are now, so incapable of allowing yourself to _feel_, of letting yourself love and_ be _loved. That's why you pushed Steven away, because you think that the more people you let into your life, the weaker you will become because eventually, you'll start caring for those people and they'll have the power to destroy you.

'I'm sorry.'

You say, feel like you can actually relate to someone who's been in a similar situation.

'Our dad used to...'

Jamie cuts off abruptly before he can finish off his sentence. You turn to look at him, see that his face is pale and his eyes have darkened as if being momentarily taken over by his past.

'Doesn't matter. Anyway, Danny understand you. He probably likes you more than he likes Cheryl because it's _you_ who's getting hurt. He's getting protective over you. He just doesn't like showing it. That's why he agreed to let you stay with us, the whole reason that he was gunna go and beat Seamus to shit.'

This all comes to a shock to you. You thought that Danny was letting you stay because you are a part of Steven's life now and he seems to have his best interests set as a priority. You didn't think he actually liked you.

'So he... Likes me?'

'In a non-homo, non-official, completely in denial kind of way, yeah. He won't ever tell you so don't go assuming that you're best friends but you're one of us now kid. '

He playfully slaps you on the side of the face and gets to his feet, pulls down his shirt over his hips and stretches out his limbs.

'Don't know about you but I haven't eaten in ages. You want something to eat?'

He asks, rummaging in his bag and pulling out his wallet.

'I'm good. Probably just going to stay with Steven a little longer.'

The older man smiles politely and wonders off out of the room, only to return later with his arms full of food, far too much for him to eat by himself. Both of you remain in the hospital for hours on end, eating, occasionally talking. Most of the time, you sit and watch him draw, are fascinated by the techniques he uses.

Steven wakes up eventually, is slightly startled as to where he is but he relaxes in an instant when he sees your face. Liam keeps his promise and checks on you every hour, sneakily brings you free cups of coffee, having to hide it in the pocket of his blue overalls. One of the nurses also comes in to feed the boy although he has to be fed through a tube now because he can't move his jaw in order to chew.

Keith and Danny visit in the evening for an hour or two and at around half eleven, Keith convinces you to go back home with Danny. It is a school day tomorrow after all and it's the beginning of your revision schedule, something you really can't afford to miss. You ask Steven if he'll be alright on his own and you gain one blink - Yes. You kiss him on the lips, again tasting chemicals from his administered Chemotherapy earlier on in the day and reluctantly take your leave.

You both stop off at a 24/7 chinese on the way home, your belly rumbling loudly before you set off making Danny alter his route in order to feed you. He parks in the car park, hasn't said a word to you since you left the hospital which only makes things that little bit more awkward. He takes off his seat belt and is about to get out of the car when he turns to you and says;

'You coming in or not?'

'Oh... Um... Yeah.'

You slip out and walk alongside him, have never been here before but then again, you've rarely been taken out to dinner, have usually been dumped with a microwave meal so your dad can go out on the lash.

You stare up at the menu board, smelling the delicious aroma of cooking Chinese food, spices and peppers and sweet and sour sauce tingling your senses. The woks crash down onto the frier as the chef spins the food in the pan, adding salt and chicken and peppers and rice and the sound of it alone has your stomach growling even louder.

'What you having?'

Danny asks, pulling out a £20 note from his pocket and rolling it between his fingers.

'Umm... Chicken fried rice, chilli wings, and spare ribs.'

'Jesus. You eat like a horse, just like Jamie.'

You go to dig your wallet out of the back of your trousers, stuffed the money that you'd saved for years into it when you went back home to fetch your stuff, but Danny stops you.

'Put that away.'

'No it's okay. I have money.'

'Would you shut the fuck up and do as I say? Ste is my responsibility and you're his boyfriend. That makes _you_ my responsibility as well. You live under my roof too so put your money back and let me feed you. Jesus you're hard work.'

You slip your wallet back into your pocket and smirk, not only at his humour but how you are a part of their family now. You have friends that are willing to protect you. For once in your life, you feel... _Free._

When your order is done, he hands the bag over to you, says 'I might have bought it but you can make yourself useful and carry it.' -which again makes you smirk. You realise now how much you like Danny. He's the same as you, bitter, witty, hates the fact that his primal judgement may be incorrect so therefore has to continue down the line of his initial thoughts, hates admitting he's wrong. You wouldn't say that you're friends, really, you're in the same boat as him. You hate liking him.

* * *

This is the first night on your own, alone in Steven's bed with the light of the streetlamps streaming through the open curtains. You don't want to shut them, are struggling to sleep so you're simply staring out of the window, watching the trees sway in the slight wind. Even in Steven's absense, you're still surrounded by him. You can smell the hair gel he used to use on the pillow, the scent of his soap on the duvet.

You turn on the bedside lamp and wonder over to his wardrobe, are missing him desperately and you just want to be near him, _feel_ him engulfing you. His clothes are ordered neatly, each of his track suits shoved to one side and separated from his more modern and stylish clothing. You pull out one of his jumpers, one that you've noticed is far too big for him, and you throw it on, find that it's a little bit tight but when you pull the fabric up to your nose and inhale, it smells of him, his deodorant easily noticeable.

For some reason, having his clothes on soothes you, makes you feel close to him even if you aren't in his presence. You climb back into bed with his jacket on and press your lips to the drawing that Jamie let you keep, wish that you could relive that moment.

* * *

Sleep came easier after all of that, and when you wake, you hop into the shower, change into your uniform and walk to school on your own, need some time to clear your head on this calm morning. You're going to see Steven later on in the afternoon after your revision class. You haven't heard anything over night so you're assuming that no news is good news.

Liam is at the hospital again today so he'll be checking on Steven regularly,which gives you a little bit of peace of mind. Keith is keeping an exceptional eye on you, for different reasons as opposed to when you started. He's looking out for you instead of trying to leer you out of trouble, although you've been pretty well behaved due to the recent events that have occurred.

'Bren! Wait up!'

Cheryl's high pitched voice comes from behind you and she runs to your side from the end of the road, her arm linked with Danielle's. They've become more and more inseparable over the years, where as you and Paddy have only drifted apart.

'How's Ste? Is he okay? I was thinking of coming to the hospital with you after school if that's alright? We both really want to see him.'

She searches your face for approval and you nod instantaneously with a tight smile. It'd be nice for Steven to see his best friend's faces, especially after not seeing them for a whole week.

'Sure. Um... I have a revision class but... You go ahead and I'll meet you there afterwards.'

You say, are hoping that they'll wonder off down the street and chat about the usual bravado so you can have a little time to yourself.

'How are you holding up?'

Danielle asks, unlinking her arm from Cheryl's and circling so she's walking next to you, her hand lightly brushing your elbow.

'I'm alright. Always am.'

You throw an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, have treated her very much like a sister for a long while, since you were introduced. You may not talk often, her shy persona leading her to hold back on conversation starters but she has the same vulnerable qualities that Cheryl does, one that kicks your protective demeanour into gear.

Lessons feel like a chore, your mind barely able to concentrate on anything else but Steven. People are asking where he is, are still speculating about his sudden choice to leave despite the fact that he openly told people what was wrong with him. You suppose, for once, that people are keeping their mouths shut due to the severity of the situation, keeping things to themselves because it isn't their issue to discuss.

You see Paddy at break but he ignores you, dodges any awkward eye contact and simply strides past you, leaving you at your normal table alone.

Lunch is an entirely different matter. You don't attempt to approach him while he is in the queue. You simply push past fellow students in order to get to your table, and you eat by yourself, are kind of thankful for the momentary privacy.

'Can we talk?'

Paddy is suddenly next to you, nothing in hand so he obviously decided to skip the school dinner queue.

'Sure.'

You need to clear the air, are sick of this awkward atmosphere between you, not knowing where you stand. He's been funny with you for a while, acting abnormal.

'In private.'

He pivots on one foot and starts off out of the canteen and you stride quickly after him, are following him up to the top floor where it's usually deserted at lunch. The halls are empty, deadly silent and he comes to a halt right in the middle, outside of a random classroom. You wouldn't have chosen this as an ideal location for a private talk but you go along with it anyway.

'I need to tell you something.'

He says, is starting to fiddle with his hands and break eye contact to look back over his shoulder towards the end of the corridor as if searching for any escape routes.

'Your hernia isn't back again is it?'

You ask, witty indeed but you need _something_ to lighten this mood, can't be a victim to this continuous desultory atmosphere. It's an ice breaker, something to try and humour him to show that you don't want to be on bad terms.

'What? No-' He takes a deep breath and balls his hands into fists, is trying to summon courage from the air around him. '- you know... a few months ago when Ste got beaten up?'

He asks, his face illegible now and stance rigid, giving nothing away.

'Yeah. Why?'

'It wasn't a drunk that beat him up.'

You're confused, are re-running the scenario in your head, trying to remember if you saw the man's face but you didn't. You only remember beating the shit out of it. The tone of his voice is no longer fathomable, nor is his stance or build but you were too focused to smacking him to note any of it.

'What do you mean? Course it was-'

'No Brendan. It was... It was _me_.'

He sharply lowers his gaze like he's bowing, reducing himself as a sort of surrender. He bends at the knees, his fingers stiffening and jaw locking like he's preparing himself.

'You? No you were at the game and that fight broke out, you said so yourself...'

'I lied. I left before that fight even happened. It was you that beat me up._ I _hurt Ste.'

You should be losing it, should be pummelling your fist into his face but you don't, are trying to steady yourself and think rationally before acting with violence.

'But... Why would you hurt him?'

This reason had better be good otherwise he'll be picking his teeth up off the floor and putting them into a tiny plastic bag. You can feel the blood pulsing through you, sweat starting to glisten your skin. You're burning up, are about to blow any minute.

'Because...'

He walks towards you carefully, is on edge, knows how unpredictable you can be. He moves within your proximity, is a little too close for your liking.

'Bren, we're best friends. He was stealing you away from me.'

You laugh moronically, throwing your head back and baring your teeth. Your limbs are beginning to shake from the pure anger surging through you.

'Are you fucking kidding me?!'

'No! Think about it... before you two started-' He makes a hand gesture, knows that you'll go crazy if he insults you with words '- we were closer. You and me.'

You ball your hands into fists as well, are trying your hardest not to lunge for him. Stevens's beaten face flashes into your mind and it only makes you more infuriated, more hot under the collar.

'This is fucking crazy. You're jealous?! Of me and Steven?'

'For fuck sake Brendan! You don't get it do you?!'

His voice rockets down the hall, loud and ear piercing and it shoots right through you.

'Shit.'

Before you have a chance to speak, or move in fact to wring your _best friends _throat, he has you pinned against the wall, a clump of your school blazer locked in his fists. He forces his lips against yours and rakes his fingers into your hair, is moving so quickly that your mind hasn't been able to catch up with what the fuck is happening.

'I'm in love with you Brendan.'

He whispers breathlessly when he pulls away, ghosting his lips against your jaw. You feel sick, are about to choke on a lump that has risen in your throat. You shove him away from you hard and rub your lips with the back of your hand, are getting a strange urge to scrub your mouth with bleach.

'Don't say that to me.'

You spit, finally losing your rag and lunging forward, grasping Paddy by the throat and pinning him to the adjacent wall, your fingertips digging into his jugular. Your actions are becoming instinctive, involuntary. You're squeezing and choking him but he's still looking at you as if you're the love of his life, looking at you the way Steven does.

'I knew it!'

A voice comes from behind you, a voice you recognise but one you can't distinguish or put to a face. You snap your head around, keeping your hand firmly around Paddy's neck, releasing no pressure. At the end of the corridor stands Cory Ellis, a little shit of a lad in the year below you who spreads gossip and walks around like he owns the place. He's the same height as Steven, black hair that sweeps across his face with an athletic figure the same size as Paddy's.

'Brendan Brady. School's bad boy is a faggot!'

He says, slipping his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels smuggly, a devilish smirk on his face. You release your grip from Paddy's neck, ignore his gasps for breath and chokes and begin to stalk towards the younger boy.

'So it's true. You bat for the other team.'

He says, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, running his tongue along his teeth flirtatiously, a deliberate dig to try and get under your skin.

'Shut your mouth Cory, not unless you want my fist in it.'

You spit, closing in on his personal space until you're inches apart.

'Bet Ste likes your fist shoved somewhere else.'

You feel something snap in your gut, like a rope under too much strain. Nobody bad mouths Steven, it does something to you, makes your blood feel like acid. You lash out and smack the smug twat in the face, your knuckles cracking against his nose. You follow him down to the ground and land punches in his ribs and face, your teeth gritted and heart smashing inside your chest.

'Bren! Brendan stop!'

Paddy shouts in protest, circling his arm around your chest and yanking to try and pull you away. You swing an arm backwards and shove him to the ground and continue to smack Cory in the face, his blood smearing your knuckles. Every inch of self control simply flies out of the window as you pummell him, wiping the demonic grin off of his face. He simply lies there and takes it, his eyes widening, practically laughing in your face so you hit him harder.

'Woah woah woah! Brendan! Hey!'

The next thing you know, you're hauled away from the boy, a strong arm circling your waist yet you struggle against it, want to see Cory unconscious, feel like you'll be more satisfied.

'Stop.'

Keith's voice rattles in your ears, is strangely soothing and has the ability to calm you down straight away, begins to make your muscles relax and drain you of all of your anger.

'My office. The pair of you.'

He releases his hold and separates the pair of you by standing and walking in the middle, in between so he has control. He leads you both to his office while Cory is busy pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stop it from bleeding. He looks at you evilly, is still smug from making you snap, from making you lose your cool and it only makes you want to smack him in the mouth again.

'Sit.'

Keith says gruffly and the pair of you oblige, Cory lifting his shirt and using it to mop up the blood that's spilled down his chin.

'Now... Tell me what happened.'

He says calmly, interlocking his fingers and flicking his gaze to the rat that is sat beside you.

'Brendan is a fucking psycho. He punched me for no reason!'

He starts, begins to degrade himself into the role of the victim.

'You're lying. Need another smack to get you to tell the truth? '

You growl, are having to grip the arms of the chair with all of your might to prevent yourself from strangling him.

'Brendan. Tell me what happened.'

You freeze for an instant, are debating on whether to tell him about the incident between you and Paddy, how he tried to kiss you but you decide otherwise.

'He called me a faggot. Then he started to bad mouth Steven and I lost it.'

You say, cutting a long story short, are wanting to keep it blunt and factual. Keith's face shadows over, almost like he is trying to keep his own control. His eyes darken when he next glances at Cory, his fingers minutely shaking.

'Ellis, you're excluded for three weeks. You go no where near Brendan or his friends and if I hear _any_ homophobic abuse come out of your mouth again, then I'll expel you. That clear?'

'What?! Sir! That's unfair! He _punched_ me in the face! He's got to get punished too!'

You're smirking on the inside, want nothing more than to be able to show it on your face but you don't because the anger still hasn't subsided.

'Brendan's actions were reasonable, but that does not mean they were acceptable. You taunted him so therefore, your punishment is more severe. Now, get out of my office and go and see Jill in First Aid.'

Cory up's and leaves but not before glaring at you like you're Satan's spawn, evidently sees that Keith is on your side. If you were in the younger boy's position then you'd think the same, but you aren't so you share no pity on his behalf.

'I'm sorry. I just... He was mocking me and I snapped-'

'Don't apologise. I understand how hard this must be for you Brendan. It's hard for all of us but no matter what the circumstances may be, I cannot and will not accept violence.'

You nod in understanding, may see the wrong doings of your actions but it doesn't mean you regret them.

'I'll give you a warning this time round. If there's a _next_ time, maybe you won't be so lucky.'

He says, starts straightening out papers on his desk, a symbolic technique showing that this conversation is over. You get to your feet and smile politely, take your leave without another word, are simply thankful that you won't have to carry out a torturous punishment that could interfere with your plans to be with Steven.

'Bren...Brendan.'

To your surprise, Paddy is waiting outside of Keith's office, begins to follow you down the hall as you stride away. You need him to leave you alone, fear that if he pushes you far enough, then he'll end up with a busted nose as well.

'Brendan please.'

He begs, taking hold of your hand and whirling you around on the spot so you're facing him.

'I love you. Please just-'

'No Paddy. No. I'm with Steven okay? _Steven_ is my boyfriend and I ain't gunna ditch him because you suddenly start to throw around this _I love you Brendan_ bull shit. I actually need a reason not to break you in half right now after what you did to him. I already have a reason to break your nose, so don't give me another reason that'll make me do it.'

You snatch your arm away from his grip and power walk to class, are ten minutes early but you couldn't care less. A quiet room is what you need and thankfully, it helps you to calm down by the time lessons start. You do as little work as possible, nothing else but Steven on your mind. You want to be able to leave this establishment and, ironically enough, be in the hospital alongside him, holding his bony hand.

You end up leaving the revision class ten minutes early, make up a petty excuse saying that you don't feel very well. The teacher says it's fine, is bewildered enough by the fact that you actually turned up.

You start off towards the hospital, don't have the patience to stop off home and change first because there is a density in your chest that's telling you that you _need_ to be close to him, such an intense feeling that it slows your heart and makes you feel faint. There's no one in Steven's room when you get there, although there's a fresh bouque of flowers and a card on the bedside table which you assume is from Cheryl and Danielle. What you notice when you walk in is not the boy himself, but the number of tubes and wires hanging off him.

He has to be fed through a tube, hydrated through a tube, has to piss through a fucking tube, there's a cannula still in his arm attached to a packet of blood, pads on his chest that are keeping an eye on his heart. It stabs at your core, to think that a few months ago he had a full head of hair, golden skin that glowed in rays of sunlight, blue eyes as deep as a Hawaiian ocean and lashes abnormally long. Now he is this, a boy trapped in a body that can't move with a deadly poison running through his veins, in pain every minute of the day.

You circle around the bed and see that he's awake, staring out of the window, his eyes following a pair of birds that are flying around, chasing each other.

'Hey.'

You say, running your hand up the boy's leg until you're able to cup his bony cheek, smile brightly when you see his eyes light up by the sight of your face.

'You okay?'

You ask, pulling a chair up to his bedside and leaning down to kiss his lips. One blink - Yes. You explain your day to him, can see how fascinated he is yet worry washes over him when you tell him about Cory. Despite not being able to move, his face subtly changes and it's enough for you to desipher what he's feeling. You tell him that it doesn't matter, him finding out because you're free now, more than you've ever been.

You miss out the part about Paddy.

Liam comes in a little later and explains to you that Steven has had his dose of chemotherapy today, says that he now needs regular blood transfusions in order to keep his immune system as strong as possible. He also tells you that he had another nose bleed, far less severe than the one the other day but never the less.

It's a mix of revision and idle chatter between you and Steven for the rest of the night. Everyone comes to visit him at separate intervals, Danny being the last of the day and he offers you a lift back but you decline, say that you're going to stay here at the hospital with Steven tonight, despite it being a school night. He doesn't argue, simply respects your wishes and leaves, only to return about half an hour later with an over night bag containing your tooth brush, underwear, a clean school shirt, pyjamas, hair gel, and your cucumber faces wipes. Needless to say it draws a blush into your cheeks when you see those lying at the bottom.

At about half eleven, you close your book and slap it to the floor, your eyes aching and heavy. You use the toilets at the end of the hall to change, are asked by a nurse on your way back if you need a blanket which you agree to. They know you by name now, have greeted you and gone out of their way to provide extra privileges.

There is no way in hell that you're going to sleep in that chair, nor is there a possibility that you'll sleep on the floor. You have a plan in mind, something ridiculously romantic for a man like yourself but you pluck up the courage and try to follow it through anyway.

You spread the blanket over the top of the boy and tuck it in behind him, want him to stay warm because his hands and feet are freezing cold. You slowly climb onto the bed next to him and crawl under the blanket, force yourself to be as close to him as possible. It's a tight squeeze but claustrophobia has never been so pleasurable. You pull his body into you, an easy task due to how much weight he's lost, and you take hold of his arm and wrap it around yourself, want to f_eel_ him touch you, want to be in the position that you're normally in after you've slept together.

Of course, there's no chance of that happening but it doesn't matter, doesn't make a difference to you, no matter how big a part sex plays in your relationship. It's _more_ than that now and you're in it for the long run, will spend the rest of your life attending to him if that is the way it has to be.

* * *

**4 months Later**

You've taken and finished each of your exams, are relieved as hell because now it is the beginning of the summer holidays and you have more time to relax and spend time with Steven. Of course, the majority of the time you will indeed be in the hospital, something you never pictured but you're okay with that.

You proved the teachers wrong, were faithful and committed and you showed up to each of their after school classes and the majority of staff were surprised that you actually turned up to take the tests. If you were a betting man, then you'd place bets on the number of teachers who betted that you wouldn't show.

There's been no change with the boy, the damage to his spinal cord still severe. He's had more nose bleeds, two having occurred in the middle of the night while you were in bed with him and each time you freaked out and ended up in floods of tears. The dressings on his back were removed permanently six weeks after his operation, the scar being a bright purple. It took a while for it to heal due to his low white blood cell count but even so, it's the best news you've had in months.

Yourself and Cheryl are able to spend some more time together now and she too has been in the hospital to see Steven quite a lot, Danielle attached to her hip of course. Thankfully, your baby sister hasn't continued her pleas in trying to get you to come home, and neither has your father. You haven't seen him since you had that fight with him in the pub, are fucking thankful for that and all. He's nothing to you, no father of yours and nor will he ever be.

Yourself and Paddy haven't spoken in a while either. He's stayed out of your way, left you to sit on your regular table with Cheryl and Danielle, while he's fucked off to be with his friends in the football team. You still catch him staring at you in class, like a doe eyed, loved up teenager and it makes you wonder if he did that before he admitted that he was in love with you, whether you were stupid enough not to notice.

In terms of your sex life, of course, nothing is happening so you've had to settle with jerking off a couple of times a day, wake up slightly early when you're back at Steven's house and have a morning wank while you're in the shower. You tend to be hornier at night, have gotten into a habit of fucking your fist in all sorts of positions to make yourself spunk as hard as you can so you can last through out the night without having to masturbate again in the early hours of the morning.

You're sat in the living room at Steven's house, a place that you can now call home. Liam's head rests on your knee, the length of his body splayed across the rest of the sofa. He's taken to flirting with you as well now, has found it hilarious to embarrass you by asking what sort of positions you and Steven have done, how kinky things have gotten and he's delightfully shared some of his tales about his own gay encounters.

'One time, I went on holiday to Portugal and there was this gorgeous waiter, had to be the same height as me, maybe a little taller. He stared at me all through dinner and then when I was going back to my hotel, he pulled me into a side alley and sucked me off right there.'

He's boasting, of course he is but he still humours you with how many guys he's fucked, has almost had you in tears when explaining his worst encounters during sex.

'Did you take him back to the hotel?'

'Fuck yeah. Had the most gorgeous ass I've ever seen.'

Jamie and Kyle decided to leave the room when they sensed this conversation coming along. You've started to run a rota of some sorts with the lads, distributed shifts as it were to say who would be visiting Steven and when. Most of the time you've been there all day, stuck it out because you've wanted to, haven't had the strength to leave him. You figured, that as long as he had _someone_ with him for most of the time, then things would be easier on him.

'Tell me one of your bad ones.'

You say, shifting your position slightly in order to roll Liam's head out of your crotch.

'Umm... Okay one time, I went out to a gay bar, fancied some dick and there was a guy eyeing me up from the bar. He was kinda cute to be honest, had a hot face. So I went over to him and we danced for a bit. Then I bought him home, made him strip and he was the hairiest mother fucker I have ever seen! Now don't get me wrong, I like a bit of hair. On the chest and belly, but he was like Chewbacca from Star Wars! Plus, he had the end of his dick pierced! What is that all about?'

You're practically in tears, Liam's expressions of horror at reliving the experience drawing howls of laughter out of you.

'What did you do?'

'I still fucked him. Had to go through a fucking forest to find his arse though.'

A ring of the door bell brings your cries of laughter to an abrupt halt.

'I'll get it.'

You say with a sigh, tapping Liam's forehead indicating for him sit up. You wonder over to the front door, attempt to look out of the peep hole but it's too late at night to see anything. Who you find standing on your doorstep wasn't what you expected, in fact, it nearly makes you slam the door shut again.

Cheryl stands with tears in her eyes, has obviously been crying because her nose is red and irritated from where's she's been continuously wiping it. Behind her, stands your father, dressed in thin clothes due to the scorching heat of the summer. He looks thinner, his cheeks more prominent and the bones of his elbows visible. You wonder if he's spent so much money on booze and fags that he's run out of money to feed himself.

'What do _you_ want?'

You spit at your dad, your muscles tensing into place, readying yourself for any confrontation that may arise.

'Bren. Please.'

Cheryl says, holding back a sob. You presume that a relative has died, maybe your great Aunt Jean, a woman who you haven't seen in years but somehow has been around since the beginning of time.

'I don't want any trouble son.'

He says and you nearly laugh in his face, because that is what he always causes, what he always brings. He says something with an extended meaning to deliberately agitate you, wants to drive you to the edge, to test you and see how far you'll go.

'Why are you here?'

'I want you to come home Brendan.'

He says, his eyes running over your body, something that Cheryl can't see because she's stood in front of him. It makes you take a minute step back, a habit that always occurs when he undresses you in that way.

'I ain't coming home. Not what after you said and did.'

'I apologised for that'

'Bull shit! You made Cheryl tell me that.'

You have an extended confidence that's allowing you to talk to him like this, back chat him. There are three boys in this house, excluding Danny for the moment, who are all willing to punch the shit out of this scum bag if he touches you. You're using that fact to your advantage.

'You've been without me for months so why do you suddenly need me now?'

He looks down at his feet and you can tell that the main reason he is here, is because Cheryl asked him to come, has never been able to refuse anything when it's presented by his little princess. Maybe this is her idea, the tears being fake as a way to guilt trip you into going back to that prison. Or maybe this is her way of trying to bring you two closer together, by bringing him over here to try and talk you around.

'I've got Lung cancer son.'

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